Almeda Fire 1 - An Inferno Explodes
The morning of 9/8/2020 we heard there were two small fires that had started up around Ashland due to the wind storm that came in. We didn’t think too much about it. Facebook showed helicopters actively battling it and there wasn’t evidence of it spreading significantly yet. Heading to work, things seemed normal. Fire season was finally here but it had mercifully decided to cut things short into September rather than starting in the usual August.
About noon I got a call from mom. Fires were spreading and had raced down the greenway. Parts of Talent were being threatened. She was at home working to get the irrigation on but was having trouble. I raced out over lunch, letting my staff know patients would likely be delayed 15 minutes. Halfway there I got a call that our neighbor Kevin had come over and was helping. Back to the clinic I went as I figured I had two more patients, could reschedule my 4:15, and head back to Phoenix to prep things in case the worst happened and we needed to evacuate. This was starting to look bad. We had no idea how bad, or how quickly it was spreading at this time already.
About 3:15 I had finished with my last patient, was frantically getting billing slips in, and got a call from mom that Kevin had come running over and that they were evacuating RIGHT NOW as the fire was marching up Hartley road and had already taken out everything at the intersection of Hartley and 99. They had the dogs and a few irreplaceable items and were headed up towards Wagner, the only direction they could evacuate to that also had a route over the mountains in need by, and where Kevin had good friends to stay with out of harms way. I tried North Phoenix and it was a parking lot. Flipping a u-turn I raced down Barnett and then hit near gridlock on the south interchange overpass. I was able to figure out an open area to the right, turned towards Freddy’s, then jotted over to the main Rogue Credit Union where I dumped the car, grabbed my N99, and hopped out. I couldn’t get fire updates at this time as the cell towers were overloaded and traffic control cops didn’t know how bad things were or were not in Phoenix, just that at least an initial evacuation was in play. The fire had jumped I5 and is on both sides. There are obvious structure fires from the amount of black smoke.
4 miles. I could run 4 miles – 30-40 minutes depending. So I swapped to a t-shirt I had in the car and started running…toward Phoenix and the wall of black that I couldn’t yet tell if it was from Phoenix or Talent. I figured that it was an ok risk as long as there was active traffic passing me going the other direction that I would hop onto at a moment’s notice. My watch showed me that stress, adrenaline, worry, fear, and a high aerobic pace had me maxing my heart rate.
Run 3 minutes, walk 1, keep progressing. Get updates as I can along the way from people driving the other way. I made it about 1.25 mile from my house before it hit. There’s no going forward. It’s not safe. I’m battling running into winds that are gusting the opposite direction. The toxics in the are doing a number on my eyes even with protection. That in front of me is a wall of black smoke that’s simply inexorably, marching forward. We’re starting to get down to the final cars evacuating. I am amused/bemused/a few other things at watching the guy heading down the middle of the 4 lane road on his 4 wheel electric medical scooter while he’s followed by a truck with emergencies on. What is going on that keeps them from helping him into the truck and stowing the scooter: full vehicles, stubbornness, pride, the brain failing to think logically during an emergency? I get a call from Andi. She is at Ben & Haley’s place and waiting there. I assure her that I’m staying safe and will be back as soon as I can, and that I’m turning around. The question from almost 3 miles before has been answered. It’s not remotely safe.
At this time I heard back from my friend Eve who is an Oregon State Police Detective. She is being assigned to traffic control and has dropped her camper truck with the dogs off at our friend’s place in Medford. She doesn’t know if she has a house anymore. The fire is spreading incredibly fast. Phoenix isn’t safe. She’ll get by the house if she’s able to but obviously can’t prioritize it for a cat if the choice is cat vs human. I know and agree.
During this time a lady is pulling out of the neighborhood and asks if I need a ride. I hop in the back of the truck. While we’re speeding away I’m taking video of the destruction that is Phoenix behind us, and yet another fire in front of us (I think by S Stage). The first bit of despair hit me at this time. I’ve almost always been able to fix things. I can’t fix this. This is nature in full destructive glory. We always though the fires coming from the hills would be the worry. It never occurred that the greenway is a dry tinderbox fire freeway placed perfectly to rush things westward.
We get caught in traffic. I look over and see Larkin driving a neighboring vehicle with animals in the trailer. I get her attention and hop in to both check status and get a ride that’s not in the ash-laden air. The animals are naturally going bonkers. She is ok – went to evacuate a friend’s place. She and Micah are still at Chad’s place and he’s doing well. She saw the Phoenix Motel gone, and both Pucks and Rays on fire as she was driving through town. I wish her well and ask her to drop me alongside the RCU so I can reclaim my car.
At this point I was able to make it to Ben & Haley’s fairly quickly. Andi is there. Life is completely up in the air. We decide to try to get to higher ground as just sitting here is not an option – too many emotions and unanswered questions. We head towards Roxy Ann to find it’s closed to traffic. That makes sense – everyone crowding up there could easily cause emergency issues and right now 100% of our emergency personnel need to be working these fires. There’s a neighboring road that looks promising: Aerial Heights Drive. We head up and find decent visibility.
Looking south towards Phoenix. The Rogue Valley Manor is middle left.
There are a few others up there, mostly locals. We can see two bombers working the first alongside their spotter planes. We stay up there for an hour or so before deciding to head down. During this time I’ve been getting intermittent phone calls from my parents. Mom is safe with our neighbor Kevin and they’re watching the fires from the southern hills. It looks like mom & dad’s place is ok. They can’t tell on Andi and mine. It looks like most of Talent between Talent Ave and 99 is gone but they can’t tell how far towards Ashland it extends. Eve’s property remains a big question mark. Last I talked to her she was pretty sure it was gone. Dad is stuck in gridlock on Griffin Creek. He was trying to reach mom but at this point is just trying to turn around so he can make it back to us.
Down closer we find the manor area is closed off, naturally, but we find a good vantage point at the intersection of Juanipero Way and Golfview. The black plumes from the south are staggering. It’s obviously beyond the tree line for the greenway, but we’re not able to tell how far. I’m not able to make out the Phoenix hill through the smoke and our property status is unknown. I feel that if I can just see what’s going on with the hill that it will tell us, as it’s a large physical block to the east of our house. If it’s ok, our house likely is. If it’s on fire then our house is most likely torched. As evening starts to descend there are 9 different hot spots we can make out. The one due south is growing to be huge and we’re constantly hearing the pops of what are likely backyard propane tanks exploding. I can’t quite get a reading until I recall my geocaching app. Loading it and picking a geocache in the areas I think are on fire I can start to get readings. The big plume looks to be Medford Estates going up, about 1.5 miles south. The leading edge of the fire hasn’t quite yet hit the cellular fields.
At this point I have to chuckle. Here we are with our lives possibly collapsing and my passion for geocaching combined with a basic ability to read maps is what allows me to get the best information possible and help to put some of our fears at rest. Drawing a straight compass line to Jason’s cache near our house it looks like it’s coming from an area with minimal smoke. We have some hope. Andi and I keep each other going as emotions run the gambit. We’re strong together. We know we’ll get through whatever happens. We’re devastated from the news bits coming in that make us fear for our family and friends. We have so many unanswered questions still.
The conversations around us are full of wonder and dread. There are conflicting reports of Home Depot going up vs it being ok. People talk about gas stations going up. We hear a huge boom that we figure is either a station or a huge propane tank. Fear, worry, everyone calling/texting/facetiming. There are a few people we have to convince it’s a stupid idea to try to drive down N. Phoenix Road. Besides, look at those lights at the intersection. They’re not letting anyone through, rightfully so.
A call comes in. It’s dad. He’s stopped on Juanipero Way to look at things. “Where are you?!” “I’m right at the turn.” “We’re 100 feet away!” He heads our way and part of our family is reunited. It’s hard, it’s tragic, but we’ve weathered 40 years of difficulty. I know with my dad by my side that so much more is possible.
We all decide to head back to Ben & Haley's to regroup and plan. Pulling up we see Eve’s camper truck and know the doggies are in there. I take them to the backyard while Andi and dad get the house opened. We collapse inside for a moment.
They the front door opens and it’s Eve. Max and Sadie had managed to slip the side gate and she drove up to see her pups greeting her. She just got called off shift along with everyone else who started at 7. By this time it’s dark so it must have been about a 12 hour shift. She is utterly exhausted with a look I have never seen, or imagined to see, on her face. She still has no idea about her house. She heard that Matthew & Tita’s place, and Jamie’s place, are both gone completely.
We all sit down. We mentally wander a bit as we try to grasp what’s going on. We listen to Eve’s police scanner and hear the Table Rock Road fire start up. We get in touch with friends to make sure everyone is ok. Most have evacuated to Grants Pass and they are holed up there for the time being. During this time we hear that Rogue Regional Medical Center is starting evacuations as they and the area we’re in (about ½ mile away) have had their evacuation level raised. The Manor is sheltering in place by the reports we’re hearing. Then we hear I-5 is open.
I talk with Andy. He has just driven Ashland to Medford and is turning around. It’s devastation. I find out he’s ok and check in – naturally we’re all welcome to shelter with him. As evacuation levels at our current place have increased we decide that’s a smart move. We load up our rigs and head that way. While driving southbound I-5 I’m holding up the phone to take what video I can. I know it’s technically illegal. I don’t care. I’m the only one on the road around me and holding it out blindly. I’m devastated by what I’m seeing: downtown Phoenix gone, downtown Talent (as much as I can make out) gone, embers all over the place littering the hills and greenway around the freeway. The halfway funny aspect in all this is all the randomness. There would be 3 guard rail posts burned to a crisp while the rest are fine. There a single tree with embers and fire while the group around it is untouched. There are little pockets of green in the devastation, seemingly without rhyme or reason. I know it comes down to fire movement and the living breathing aspect it takes on with the wind, oxygen, and fuel. It’s still surreal.
I stop at Shop ‘n Kart on the way. We need toothbrushes and I need contact solution. We all need some food. I grab some extra munchies, Ashland Amber, and Cider. It’s the end of the world and Ashland Amber is a constant comfort beer.
Arriving at Andy’s everyone is half settles, half stunned, and completely unsure on what to do next. We eat, try to catch updates with friends. At one point I start talking about ways to get back to the houses. Dad and I converse with the maps. Darkhollow to Pioneer to Colver. It’s all at the edge of level 3 evacuation. It should be passable. We would really like to know what’s going on and if anything is salvageable. Andy offers to drive. He, Andi, dad, and I hop in his truck. We’re able to exit Medford and head through our planned route. Every cross street is blocked by police, so this is the shortest and only way other than driving up to Mt. Ashland and coming down from Wagner, a 2.5 hour trip. Eve is going to try to sleep as she’s back on duty in 5 hours.
Our first stop is mom and dad’s place. Driving up Hartley Road area is on fire but looks safely passable. We head down and are able to make it to the house without issue. There’s a grass fire across the way. There are other fires further down the road. Working quickly we empty the house of irreplaceable items while Andy watches the approaching fires. We move the propane tanks away from the travel trailers just in case. We look around and I hear dad say his goodbyes.
We’ve been building this house and property from the ground up for the past 4 years. I cannot even begin to fathom the devastation dad is feeling inside. I know where I am and I know he has to be magnitudes worse. He has put his time, sweat, tears, and years into building the dream house for him and mom. I have to compartmentalize at this time. My time will come with my own house but this is his time for grief where I need to be able to support my family.
We head toward Andi’s and my place. Colver is blocked down by Bear Camp but I’m able to lead Andy through the back streets in the neighborhood – thank goodness for running in the area. We’re surprisingly able to drive right across on 1st street and head straight to the house. The neighborhood is eerily quiet. There’s the sky-enveloping glow on the other side of the Phoenix hill, but our side is simply smoky and yet untouched. We get home. We hear a meow. Gandalf is ok!
While we start gathering up everything irreplaceable a gentleman shows up on the door. He apparently lives a block down, hasn’t evacuated, and is watching everyone’s house for looters. He’s a good, brave man and we thank him. Towards the end of our evacuation everything finally builds up on me. I end up letting out a blood-curdling scream of frustration and tears. Next time…hopefully there won’t be a next time…but next time I’ll forewarn my family as they thought something had happened and I was in the midst of getting severely injured.
Long story short, we get everything loaded and start on home. 2 blocks later Gandalf has apparently had enough and decides to both thrown up and defecate at the same time. It is a uniquely horrifying smell crammed into a truck cabin. Our options are to deal with it or deal with the smoke. We decide to 50/50 it as with the windows closed it’s unbearable. While we were loading up we put him in the middle of the back seat, Andi and dad in, and then piled stuff on top of them, so there’s no stopping and cleaning things up. We just deal, and try to comfort a poor stressed out scared kitty.
We make it back, extricate and clean up Gandalf, get everything unloaded, and collapse for a few minutes. Shortly after I realize I still feel unsettled. I can’t stand the thought of mom and dad loosing their place and I think what we left was still safe to monitor and possibly battle. I chat with my wife Andi and my dad. Everyone is in agreement. Dad and I are going to head back. We know that there’s a good chance all we’re going to be able to do is watch from Colver while the property burns, but at least there will be closure and not just sitting around wondering, as there’s no way any of us are sleeping tonight. He and I load up extra water, headlamps, masks, and head out. We’re able to take the same path back but find that Pioneer and Colver is blocked due to a massive flare-up in front of us. It looks like something in the field and the closer part of the houses are on fire. We circle around to Andi’s and my place. It’s still in good order. We grab a few necessities we forgot: kitty bed and kitty litter, and also grab my fire extinguishers. I realize we left Andi’s jewelry armoire and dad and I are able to simply load the entire thing into the Outback.
We decide to try 99 to Hartley. It’s passable. Devastation everywhere but passable. I just about drive past the turn off to Hartley because everything is gone. The Barely Used Beds that’s been a fixture landmark for years is nothing but rubble. Same with the initial houses on Hartley. We turn down and are almost immediately stopped by draped power lines. Dead end, or so we think.
There are headlights ahead and we see them work their way through. We chat. It’s the Fire Marshall and they actually know Kevin, dad's neighbor, personally. They just checked and both Kevin’s place and mom and dad’s place are still standing! We have permission to go as long as we’re careful.
I’m able to weave my way through the power lines, which by this time are obviously dead. Some houses along the way are torched down while others are nearly pristine. We pass by Jesse’s place and it’s a roaring inferno.
The trees in the distance give us a striking visual of the force of the winds that have been driving this inferno across our valley.
Mom and dad’s place is completely dark. There’s a small bit of orange flame from the house across the street do we decide to check it out. Their back barn is gone and the back gate is on fire. This is the same gate that leads to the fence directly to the house. We confer and both agree it’s safely manageable. Dad sees that the gate is able to be unlatched but it’s not moving so I grab a nearby hoe and take a stab. With a few whacks I’m able to knock it off the post. We run back to the farm to get the fire extinguishers and shovels. I also see bags of potting soil next to the house so we start throwing those on the fire and shoveling dirt around. Dad finds a nearby large tub of water. With the combination of extinguishers, water, and potting soil we’re able to get the fire out. Looking at things it’s obvious that the fire would have likely taken the house, then the tree, and then threatened mom and dad’s place.
We both collapse into half laughs/half tears. 30 minutes later and who knows what might have happened. We monitor the area for the next few hours, spend some time down at Jose’s place putting out the spot fires we can.
Then we decide to see if we can check on Eve’s house. The back way to Talent is open and the safest way. There’s a road along the railway and we’re able to take that to a private drive where we run into a couple locals. They’re certain the area is still ok but also have a good way to walk there through the park. We head off and 10 minutes later are standing in front of Eve’s place.
It’s standing! I laugh out loud in joy as we were certain it was gone. The fire burned the mobile home park to the north but it looks like the bombers targeted the roadway between the park and the houses, and almost all the houses are saved. The street is red with retardant and both street and signs look like they’re weeping blood from all the destruction.
But it is mercifully lifesaving retardant and our friend’s house, who has been spending all day and spends every working day keeping our valley safe, is standing, and I’m able to send her pictures to let her know. In all the craziness that has happened in the past 12 hours I'm able to pass along a glimmer of hope to come. It's enough...it has to be enough for now.
I am still in utter disbelief. The fire to the west is only ½ block away. It's the same to the north. All our other friend’s houses in the area are burned down. Talent is devastated.
We headed back. Parents are home and safe. We’re in Ashland with our friend Andy. We woke up this morning and are taking stock of where life is this day after.