The Holiday Farm Fire
Get Out! Now! A Firefighter’s Account of the Holiday Farm Fire 2020
Part 5/12
Chapter Five
Several vehicles congregated in the McKenzie Highway turning lane: a water tanker, an SUV with another fire department’s logo on it, and an ambulance. A small car with melted tires parked near the ambulance, and it looked a little burned.
I imagined this is what 91 would look like once I inspected her. Inside the car, a woman gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckles and screamed. Another woman tried to calm her and convince her to get out. Some medics stood around the car as well. I also thought I saw children in the back of the car.
I didn’t think they needed my help as well, so I decided to turn off towards the school and make sure I could get Joe to safety. I stopped at the entrance to the school and got out of the car.
I waved my arms at people so drivers would see me and hopefully stop and talk to me. Either no one saw me, or no one wanted to stop.
There weren’t many cars left, so I got out of 91 and really stood in people’s way to wave them down. All but one car had passed me by. Thankfully, the last car stopped, and as they rolled down their window, I saw a face I knew well. I was so relieved to see her because I knew she’d help me.
“Maddy, I have someone that needs a ride to town. Could you take him?” She nodded and simply said, “Yeah, I’ve got room.”
I helped Joe out of 91 and into her vehicle. As they started moving, I waved and called out, “Thank you, Maddy! Be safe. Take care of yourself, Joe!”
He smiled just a bit and nodded at me. I couldn’t quite hear it, but I think he may have muttered something like, “Thanks.”
I parked at the school and slowly walked around 91.
I could not believe what I saw.
It did not look like a car that had taken a blow from a boulder and driven over a burning tree. The huge rock must have just hit the back tire. 91 looked great!
Thank God — He had answered my prayers!
I stood there and shook my head in disbelief for a moment before remembering that my work here had just begun. I drove back to the highway to talk with the task force.
The emergency vehicles that I’d passed earlier were theirs. They were one of the teams that had come together from neighboring districts when Chief called the conflagration.
I was not surprised to hear that we no longer considered the highway east, through which I had just come, safe. I couldn’t agree more.
At the same time, it hit me that there was no way for me to get back home to my family tonight. The only thing to do now was to evacuate Blue River and then hopefully continue west.
The task force leader gave us a quick strategy for evacuating Blue River. We still considered the school the safety zone in case the road west became impassable.
A safety zone was an area where we could be safe while the fire burned by us.
The site where we were sending evacuees had changed to Thurston High School, nearly forty miles west of us. As we headed to the center of Blue River, I listened to more of the radio traffic.
I couldn’t quite place this voice, but it sounded familiar: “Hey Dean, I made it to the road. These guys are bailing, but uh, if we can tighten up on this side it might hold, you never know.”
If it were anything like my trip from Holiday Farm RV Resort to Blue River, I could understand why people would be bailing. There were probably flames flying in the air far above the treetops right now, maybe exploding like fireworks.
I wanted to pick up the radio and tell them to be safe and get out before they lost their lives, but I wasn’t cleared to make those calls.
Dean encouraged them: “Rob, get in there and do what you can. That’s all we can do is try right now”.
Rob answered: “Okay, I made it to Rainbow Drive. I’m gonna have to get my truck, load, and get outta here.” Since he mentioned Rainbow Drive, I figured he must be trying to keep this fire from spreading east, the opposite direction from where I was, but the direction my family was.
I heard on the emergency radio what sounded like the task force leader that I had just met: “We have an established safety zone for our units, and we’re gonna protect Blue River. Everything else, we’re not going to be able to protect up here.”
I heard a ping and saw a message from Katie on my phone: “Do you want me to prep the trailer to go?”
I spoke-text into my phone: “I don’t know if we have the hitch. If we did, it would be in the metal toolbox. Maybe if we make it through tonight, then in the morning.”
I pressed send. As we approached Blue River, I said out loud to no one, “This is crazy!”
In front of me was the mountainside overlooking Blue River. Instead of it being snowcapped, like it was most of the year, it was fire capped. It looked like a volcano covered in molten lava.
We crossed the bridge over Blue River and got into what I called downtown Blue River, which spanned about six blocks in length and had one general store, the “Grass Station” which used to be a gas station but now sold “grass” instead, an art shop, a library, a post office, a medical clinic, and mostly just a lot of homes.
I fixed my eyes for a moment on a patch of tall, dry grass on fire in the empty lot across the street from the store. It was swirling like a fire tornado. I invented a new word right then and said it under my breath, “A flame-ado.” It was throwing embers in every direction.
I had to peel my eyes away from it to stay focused on what I needed to do. The leader of the task force was in the store parking lot. I stopped to get my assignment from him. I pulled up next to him and walked up to the open window of his truck.
I waited as he finished a conversation on the emergency radio and then asked, “What would you like me to do?”
He looked at me for a moment with intense eyes, pressing his lips together, as he thought about how to answer, “The highway entrance to Blue River is blocked with a down tree. We’re concerned that if a tree falls west of us on Blue River Drive, we’ll be stuck. Do you know of any other ways to the highway?”
I nodded my head. “Yes, there are other exits. I know this town really well. I can show you.”
He had to stay put to keep directing the chaos of this evacuation, so he wanted me to show some of the police officers the other exits.
Since I turned out to be the only local firefighter in Blue River, they needed to use me as a guide. I showed them the other ways to get back to the highway in case any more roads became blocked, then we started evacuating the area near the post office.
We were banging on doors and shouting the warning from the speakers on the tops of our cars.
Thankfully, it seemed that most people had already left or were already starting to leave. The news spreads quick in a small town when there’s some interesting gossip, so hopefully the news of this fire would spread faster than the fire tonight.
Many people wanted to talk to me. When one woman stopped me, I rolled down my window. She called out, “How much time do we have before we have to evacuate?”
I yelled back, “You need to get out now! Think Paradise!” Her shocked and confused face made me wonder if she knew what I meant.
Hopefully, she watched the news enough to know what I was talking about. I didn’t have time to explain it to her.
Since the beginning of this fire, in the back of my brain I kept thinking about the fire that had swept through Paradise, California. People had died in their cars as they tried to escape. This fire, too, was moving so fast, that I feared it could be Blue River’s story too.
I shuddered at the thought and prayed, “God, have mercy!”
A few more people waved me down to talk and we pretty much had the same conversation.
Eventually I decided I couldn’t afford the time to roll my window down when they just needed to follow my instructions. Lives were at stake, and I needed to get to as many people as possible and not waste one second.
Whenever I saw someone trying to stop and talk to me, I just talked to them through the loudspeaker: “You need to go now! Get out of here! Now! Thurston High School is the safety zone.”
I kept repeating the message over and over. Another message from Katie popped up on my phone: “We found the hitch!”
I just responded with a thumbs up. I had no time to chat, I just had to focus on getting to as many people as possible.
Explosions a couple times every minute were making me genuinely nervous as we went through the dense tangle of trailers on the other side of Blue River Drive. The area was so cluttered with stuff that it was hard to find each trailer door.
Little bits of burning stuff called embers kept flying past me and sometimes hitting me at about 70 miles per hour. I had to keep an arm up to try to protect my eyes. I kept my head tucked down so there wasn’t much space between my mask and my collar. Having one arm over my eyes and my head down didn’t help me see in the dark swirl of ash and embers.
Explosions kept getting louder, which meant they were getting closer. It was so scary every time I had to run outside of the protection 91 offered me to knock on doors that were often hard to find. It felt like a blizzard with gray snow blowing sideways and the occasional bright orange ember whizzing past us.
I crossed the bridge again, still leading a couple of officers to more houses. I was heading towards Blue River Reservoir when I saw an old fellow with his thumb out: a hitchhiker.
I stopped, rolled down my window, and said, “Get in!” The tall, thin man with silver hair smiled widely. “Thanks for the ride!” He hopped in the passenger seat and announced, “Don’t care where you’re goin’, as long as it’s outta here!”
Now his thumb was pointing sideways, and one side of his lips pointed up. I shook my head and laughed a little at this guy’s humor on this scary night. I called back to him, “My pleasure, sir.”
I stepped on the gas again and hustled to knock on a few more doors on that road. I knew most of these people, which made it that much harder.
It was one thing to tell a stranger that they needed to leave everything behind to save themselves.
It was especially different telling a friend.
I got back in the car, feeling such a heavy weight from having to tell another person I knew well that they had a few minutes to grab what they could. He’d have to let the rest go, or he would lose his life instead.
My new passenger interrupted my thoughts. He griped, “There’s not much leg room in here, is there?”
I turned my head and looked at him in disbelief, and his goofy grin got to me. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I decided my nickname for him would be Hitch.
I replied with a hint of sarcasm, “So sorry, sir, next time I’ll bring a car with more leg room for you.”
It was kind of nice to have a little comic relief. He came back with, “Don’t go thinking you’re getting a tip.”
I played along, taking the role of a New York taxicab driver. I played along with a Jersey accent, “Please, mista’. I got bills ta’ pay.”
When I finished getting to all the houses I knew of on that street, I headed back. Just as we were about to cross the Blue River Bridge again, I saw a man step in front of me on the road.
I slammed on the brakes and barely missed hitting him.
His long gray beard and his hair were dripping wet. I got out and asked if he was okay. He nodded slightly, and I asked him to get in the back. He nodded and walked towards the door I opened. I noticed how small he was as he climbed into 91.
I made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror as I put 91 in drive and asked again, “You okay?”
I wondered if the blue color of his face was just the lighting from 91’s stereo or if it was also from being in the river for too long. He wasn’t really responding to me.
After a moment I tried again, “Did you get hurt in the river?” He didn’t say a word; he just kept shaking. Either he couldn’t hear me, couldn’t speak, or he was too in shock.
If I were to guess, he probably had jumped in the river to avoid the fire. Since he couldn’t seem to tell us his name, in my mind I went with the name for any guy who’s name I couldn’t remember: Frank.
After a little while, I picked up another man that I would guess to be homeless, and I realized 91 was almost full. 91 only had four passenger seats since equipment filled the back.
I decided it was best to take my passengers back to the school where they could hopefully catch a ride to town. As we approached the school, I saw quite a few cars in the parking lot and wondered why they were there.
I dropped the guys off there near the school’s lawn. Hopefully, somebody going to town would be able to pick them up. I felt bad that I was leaving them outside in the smoke and embers, but at least it wasn’t as scary here as it was downtown.
I saw one of the officers I had been working with earlier come towards me. By the look in his eyes and his furrowed brows, he was clearly upset.
Angrily, he told me, “We’re going to be spending the night here. The road going west has down trees, and we’re trapped here for the night.”
I tried to calm him down, “Well, we’re going to be okay. We’ll be in a safe spot as the fire burns around us tonight. In fact, I’m going to check on the fire hydrants right now.”
I hoped I sounded calmer than I felt. I had learned what to do if you are trapped and must let the fire burn by you, but it was still scary to have to do it.
Not knowing what else to do, I gave him a firm pat on the shoulder as if to say, ‘It’s okay buddy,’ and walked towards the back of 91 to grab a tool for opening the hydrants. I started walking towards the closest hydrant.
As I walked, I thought about how underneath the anger I knew he was scared. I hated the idea of the fire burning around us, too. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to giving up my safety to save others.
Sometimes people called our crew heroes.
That may even be the way they will tell the story of tonight.
It could also be that everyone would be mad at us because we did not contain the fire and we failed to save lives.
Time would tell, and from my time with the fire department so far, it could really go either way. I used the fire hydrant key to open the fire hydrant up. Thankfully, the water ran clear, and the water pressure seemed to be good by how far it sprayed. I turned the key several times to fully open the hydrant and then quickly went the other direction to fully close it again.
People may think that firefighters and police officers are fearless and always know what to do, but it isn’t true. We’re just ordinary people that choose to put the needs of others above our own needs.
It starts with deciding to serve and devoting yourself to helping people in times of need, then it takes going to lots of classes to learn and practice what you’ve learned.
Most of the time, your life is interrupted by small emergencies, like the tree that was blocking the road earlier, then one night you’re tested by a fire like tonight’s, and you just hope you can pass that test.
I went around the corner of the school building where the lights from cars in the parking lot couldn’t be seen.
I could see just enough by the light of the fire coming from the mountains to make my way to the next hydrant.
I wasn’t really surprised that the road on both sides of Blue River was closed. With how fast this fire was moving it was a miracle that so many people were able to make it to safety before burning trees fell across the road or rockslides blocked the road.
It was important to make sure the fire hydrants were working properly to be sure we were able to defend the school. If mud, rocks, or leaves got into the fire engines, it would be trouble.
As I walked behind the elementary to another fire hydrant, I texted the superintendent of the school to let him know what we were up against.
“Bad fire in Blue River. We’re planning to let the fire burn around us at the school.”
He wrote back: “Stay safe.”
I was nervous about whether we could defend this old, wood-built school. Being so flammable, it could catch fire in an instant; not exactly what you want to be next in a raging fire storm.
I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere near the huge structures that housed kindergarten through 12th grades if it did catch fire. The parking lot was too small and too close to the building for my comfort.
Right now, all I could do was prepare to defend it when the time came. I arrived at the next fire hydrant and started opening it.
Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention so I looked up and saw a guy on a bike riding out of the woods. He was wearing a neon yellow shirt that looked like a safety vest from a distance, so I wondered whether he was a firefighter or not. We would often wear the bright colored vests when we were responding to an emergency on a road so that drivers would see us.
I just couldn’t think of a reason a firefighter would be riding a bike.
I quickly closed the hydrant back up to conserve water. As he got closer to me, I realized it was not a safety vest. I waved and called out, “Hey, we’re evacuating Blue River!”
He stopped a few feet away from me and said, “Oh… uh… okay.”
“Everyone is staying here at the school in the parking lot. It’s the safety zone,” I told him.
His eyebrows came together to think, and he looked down for a moment, then said, “Okay, man, have you ever seen anything like this? It’s crazy, man! It’s absolutely crazy!”
I nodded and started walking because I didn’t have time to stand around and discuss the weather right now. He got off his bike and pushed it as he followed me, and we went to the next hydrant. He kept talking as we walked.
“I hear explosions, man! The ashes in the air are like big old snowflakes, but they’re flying by us so fast!”
In the dim light, I could see that he had shoulder-length wavy hair in a ponytail and a thick mop of strawberry-blonde facial hair to match. He kind of looked like a lion.
It seemed the smoke was drawing all kinds of people out of the woods. Right now, we were probably just seeing a few out of a hundred. I just hoped they all made it out of the woods while they still had time.
He continued, “Wow! I think I heard another explosion. I think they’re getting closer now! What do you think?”
I nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m afraid it’s heading this way.”
Holding one hand over his eyes while pushing the bike with the other, he looked up and exclaimed, “There’s this orange glow in the sky that’s really creepy looking. It’s huge! Do you see that? I don’t like this at all. Did you say that we’re staying here? Like… it’s coming our way, but we’re staying here?”
I nodded again. “Right, the road is blocked both ways, so we’re stuck here. We’ll be safe, but the fire is going to burn by us tonight.”
I saw his eyes get bigger in the dim, orange light. “I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t like the sound of that at all! This is bad, man! This is real bad! Wow! The water really shoots out of those things, huh? I’ve never seen that before in real life, you know! You’re a firefighter, right? I’ve never met a firefighter before.”
He didn’t stop talking as I finished checking the hydrants, and we made our way back to the parking lot. I was impressed by how he could talk that much with how hard it was to breathe in the thick smoke.
When we made it back to the parking lot, I informed the task force leader that the hydrants were in working order.
Even though I was reasonably sure we could defend the school, I still didn’t like the thought of staying here while the fire burned around us.
I left the guy with the bike with some folks in the parking lot, who were now in danger of getting talked to death, and I returned to the back roads of Blue River with some officers.
