Who knew that the pandemic would take a backseat to another serious threat to our safety, but apparently 2020 is not finished with scaring the crap out of us!
Where to begin?
Monday, September 7th
It was a dark and stormy night.
The forecast was for warmer weather with high wind gusts arriving late Monday night. We live in a forest with some very huge trees, but we've had strong winds before so I wasn't terribly worried. We went to bed, but once the wind picked up, it was impossible to sleep. The wind howled (actually, it sounded more like a growl) and debris was thrown on to the roof and against the windows. Pine cones, leaves, and what sounded like very large branches, fell on the house all night. I had visions of our huge tree, which is in the backyard by our deck, falling on the house or a branch breaking one of our large windows. I moved to the couch, hoping it was just a little bit safer than the upstairs bedroom. I couldn't sleep, so I went back upstairs and as dawn approached, the wind beast grew quiet.
Deathly quiet.
The house was pitch black.
Our house is never pitch black. The glow from clocks, the weather radio, the microwave clock, the refrigerator panel, and the DVD player all light up the house even as we sleep. But not that morning.
Tuesday, September 8th
The power was out.
The phones were dead. (We have terrible cell service and are dependent on a landline.)
No hum of the refrigerator or the separate freezer.
Deathly still and...
The house is barely visible in this picture.
this eerie sky, which was red from the smoke of a distant fire. But at the time, we didn't know this. For all we knew, the ridge to the east of us could be on fire.
It felt like we were on Mars.
Without power and no way to find out what was going on, I put on a mask and headed outside. I didn't see any trees on the house, but the air was full of smoke. The driveway was covered with debris from all the surrounding trees. So much, that it had to be scooped with shovels before a leaf blower could make any headway.
I talked to a few neighbors and was able to gather information about the distant fire that was causing the smoky sky. We weren't in any imminent danger, so all we could do is wait for more updates. The sky grew darker and the red glow was replaced with darkness. It felt like 10 pm rather than 10 am.
Eventually, it grew light and I was able to read by the window, but my mind wouldn't relax and I paced the house, wondering how long until the power would be out. Would we lose all the food in the refrigerator and freezers? Should we set up the generator? I decided to take another walk and see what the rest of the neighborhood looked like.
I spotted this tree leaning precariously across the road,
hung up on a branch of another tree. Not good!
This is one of two paths behind our house.
Several trees had fallen across the path and into the common area
behind our yard. There were more, but none hit our house or the deck.
I walked up to the entrance of our community and looked north and south where traffic on Highway 101 was at a complete standstill. Just to the south, as the road makes a turn toward Whale Cove Inn, several large trees had fallen across the highway. Power lines were down and the road was impassable. It would take hours before crews could get in, assess the situation and clear the road.
I returned to the house and wandered around aimlessly, feeling at loose ends. We used battery-powered lanterns to fix our meals and I tried to use one to work on a puzzle, but it was still too dark. I bounced texts back and forth with friends, hoping to hear some news about the situation with the power and the fires, but everyone was in the same situation. No news.
This is another shot of the tree
leaning across Walking Wood.
Two more trees lying across another interior path.
It's difficult to tell what this is, but it's the root ball
of the large spruce that fell on the path.
You can see the trunk of the tree
in the lower left hand corner.
This is the same tree, which fell perfectly straight down the path
and missed the nearby home on the left. These are huge trees
and the photos don't do them justice.
I walked out to the bluff and the sky was murky with smoke and ash. It felt like I was the last person on earth.
Looking north toward Depoe Bay.
The sun was a ball of fire in the sky.
Looking south toward Whale Cove.
I was so thankful this beautiful tree of ours stood tall
and didn't topple over onto our house (and our bedroom!).
The power finally came back on around 4 pm, so we were able to fix dinner and settled in to watch an episode of Bosch.
Wednesday, September 9th
The sky was a little bit brighter than the previous day, but as the morning progressed, the sky turned a creepy yellow as the fire to the north of us gained intensity.
We were glued to our phones and computers (which were very sluggish), constantly refreshing sites, seeking any news about the dangerous fire situation. We didn't have to wait long.
By mid-morning, we were informed of nearby evacuations. Our area wasn't included in any of the three levels, but we only live 8 miles from the green area (Level 1). We decided we would leave if we reached Level 2 since we knew the highway would be gridlocked.
We started packing our Go Bags and gathering up some food supplies. Our plan was to drive to South Beach where our RV is stored. From there we would take it and the car and head south to a campground, hopefully out of harm's way. We had everything for the RV loaded in the car and had all the last minute items ready to load once we reached Level 2. The Internet and our cell phones were still very slow and spotty, but we had a friend (a former fire fighter) who planned to call us if he got word before we did. We felt fairly comfortable with our plan and after a very long and stressful day, managed to go to get a decent night's sleep.
Thursday, September 10
What a difference a day makes. We were so relieved that we didn't have to evacuate, especially in the middle of the night! The wind had shifted and was blowing in off the coast from the southwest. I went for a walk and could feel a light mist from the fog, which was such a welcome relief from the previous day's dense smoke. I could still smell smoke in the air, but it wasn't nearly as oppressive as the night before.
Our grounds crew was busy clearing the pathways and there were a few more neighbors out and about, checking in on each other.
Saturday, September 12
Today, the sound of chainsaws echo through the air, but things are beginning to look up. The squirrels and birds have finally returned, including the hummingbirds, who seem to be guzzling the nectar in their feeder.
Evacuations have been lifted in some areas near the fire and we might get rain as soon as Monday. Highway 18 remains closed from Lincoln City east through the Van Duzer corridor to Grand Ronde (which is our route to Salem). The Echo Mountain Complex Fire has burned approximately 2,435 acres and, as of today, is 20% contained. Cooler temps have arrived and our air quality is down from 415 (yesterday) to 320, which is still considered hazardous.
I continue to think about all those who have been affected by not only our local fire, but all the fires in the western part of our country. This was our first experience with the fear of losing our home and, quite possibly loved ones, but there are so many who have gone through this year after year, living under the threat of evacuation and unhealthy skies.
Something has to change.
Updated with corrections to all the dates. I had written August when I meant September. 2020 continue to mess with my awareness of the passage of time...
