THE CLEANSING FIRE

Here, the sky is caste in amber, coloring every view with its glow. The sun is an ochre circle expending no discernible warmth so thick is the matter. The glow is a mixed metaphor of good and evil.

This is the Alto Cumulous and Strato Cumulous collection of ash, ember and organic detritus from the fires burning throughout the County. This fire easily replicates the conflagration we imposed upon Dresden and Hamburg but with a more residential aspect.

The fire weaves its cyclonic sinews, oblivious to people, land or peculiar status. It is equally disrupting to the poor and the posh.

Early yesterday morning, a small fire started in the rural areas of Ventura County between Thousand Oaks and Moorpark. Obscure towns now on the National news for their 30 seconds of infamous fame.

Today, it is 20,000 acres with zero containment. Dozens of houses ranging from old ranch to new sprawling mansions lay as ashes in its wake. It makes no consideration between the posh and the poor as it flies through a dense and constricted mass of residences, intentionally designed to be hard to navigate.

The more expensive enclaves, built on the top for a preferential view, are the first prime targets as the wind selects the highest first and then descends to the less pricier housing. The windy exclusivity inhibits large engine transit and the crews watch their target disintegrate at a particularly winding bend.

For thirty years, the once bare rolling hills of cattle ranches became small colonies of small horse ranches with double-wides and ancient outbuildings to sprawling mansions screaming wealthy ownership, packed with classic cars and disposable income testimonial vehicles.

In minutes, all are wiped to the bare earth. Driven by 60-80 knot winds, the fire blowtorches its way across the narrow dense corridors the wind chose. Absolutely nothing in its path survives beyond concrete.

I watched the fire course more than 2 miles in less than 15 minutes-the embers blown high in front of the fire and then oxygen enriched, torch the ubiquitous showcase palm trees and gather under the eaves creating an incendiary cancer. Entire neighborhoods are burned to the ground in minutes while others on the border of the wind corridor are untouched. Fires are supremely fickle.

Within an easy drive of my house, the fires burn now uncontrolled. The TV shows residents with the anxious look of combatants-How soon will it get here? What do I take? Where do we go? Questions largely unasked since the displaced people of WWII. The poverty stricken and the privileged are equally threatened and subject to the same equalizing issues and influence.

The freeway’s, the arterial system of the state, course in all directions with the positioning of the dwindling resources available. Fire engines of yellow or red, singly, in pairs or more, wend their way receiving honks and thumbs up from vehicles. National Guard trucks of all descriptions with desert camouflage convoy along. Red and green CalFire and Forest Service trucks pass in pods.

The extremely well-organized State fire response system is at full throttle. Requirements far outreach resources and hard choices are made. Yes here. No there. The operational headquarters for the entire conflicted land is much like that of Fighter Command at the height of the Battle of Britain at the penultimate moment. Churchill asks General Dowding- “What do we have for reserves.”

Dowding turns and says- “We have no reserves.”

Such is it here. Helicopters for water drops are rented, acquired, contracted and abused beyond reasonable safety of flight rules. Planes from Ontario, Canada are dropping loads throughout the area. Firemen from Mexico, Canada and Spain are on our fire lines. Still, the Phoenix burns.

Many of the State and Local law enforcement helicopters are also fully engaged in a decidedly different role. Their FLIR and Thermal imagery systems are put to good use mapping fire progress and ferreting out hidden hotspots. The heavy lift capabilities of the Blackhawks and upengined UHIH’s drop endless water buckets to supplant grossly under-resourced land elements. Arresting the fire is the only motivation.

In many cases, due to the narrow roadways, engines simply cannot reach their objective and the area burns to ash. The winds are so high that the fixed wing tankers, so effective, cannot fly. Helicopters dart on the edge of the wind storm, their water drops largely ineffective because of the 60 knot dispersion effect.

Local fire engines from stations not directly involved, have been stripped and dispatched with their crews. My city, Ojai, will have engines well out of our district, the remainder as a last resort here should the fire jump. Safety of the city now rests with less than half its resources. A fair price for a good purpose.

Budget decisions years ago are impacting the operations today. Overtime is irrelevant. What counts is a crew to man the engine for twelve hours. Understaffing decisions of the past means the engine rests with its only crew when it could better serve on the line.

Some lines just ignore the rules and through immense dedication and sense of responsibility, stay on when they should withdraw.

These are crews from distant places with no emotional or familial ties to their location-they just view their spot as a personal responsibility. As the troops at Bastogne stated-If they want it, they have to take it. Truly, these are uncommon people locked in common cause.

Amidst all the political emotions and issues that disturb our land, the fires have brought the effected together as only a crisis can. The pettier aspects of life and the shallow issues of the moment are all transcended by the human togetherness and mutual requirements to succor, support, overcome and recover.

Americans have a peculiar ability to make the best out of the worst and plumb the depths of disaster to regain a better future. Perhaps our very bad fire can be a good thing.