One dark night when we were all in bed. Mrs. O'Leary took a ladder to the shed and when the cow kicked it over, she yelled up in the night, it'll be a hot time in the old town tonight.
Fire! Fire! Fire! ~ Cad. L. Mays
In 1871 the great Chicago fire was blamed on Mrs. O'Leary's cow, but no one knows how it started. The same can be said of the many devastating fires ravaging through the northwest this summer. My veteran and I grew up in Northern California and were asked to be campground hosts on the south side of Mt. Shasta, CA. Campground hosting is one of those areas in marriage referred to as 'compromise.' My idea of fun is not spending the entire summer and early fall in an RV, running everything off of a generator, and worst of all, no internet! Many combat-wounded veterans, including my veteran Curtis, prefer the forest's isolation to the busyness of town and civilization.
We arrived at our destination in California to the beauty of Mt. Shasta and the heavenly scent of Ponderosa pines. The mountains covered in pine trees brought back many happy memories of roasting s'mores over the fire as a child. A few days after we arrived, the Lava fire started to the north of Mt. Shasta. The smoke billowing up over the peak gave the mountain an appearance of a volcanic eruption. The Lava fire began on June 25th. The Tennant, Salt, and Dixie fires followed shortly after. Curtis and I had driven down to Redding, CA, to use the library and were leaving town when the Salt fire started not far ahead of us on the interstate. At this point, we were both growing in concern as we now had major fires with zero containment to the north and south of our campground.
Being a campground host was proving to be a challenge. Curtis and I were seeing our home state quite literally burn to the ground, and yet fires at individual campsites were still being allowed. In our minds, it seemed like a no-brainer to cease all fires due to the extreme heat, lack of water, and multiple fires already burning out of control. The air quality was terrible, making breathing difficult for Curtis, who is missing part of his left lung. Every day we woke up and went to bed in a haze of smoke. Drama with campers seemed to increase as the fires spread. Curtis felt like he was back in the military having to babysit privates. Several campers left fires unattended, which he had to douse. One camper used the entrance to the campground as his drag strip. After calling his license plate into the CHP for drag racing, we later found out there was a warrant for his arrest for drug and gang-related activity. Over July 4th weekend, we had a female camper that went to every, and I mean every single campsite, in an attempt to seduce men. Age, race, and marital status did not matter to her. She would make the rounds sporting her feminine wiles until her husband or children tracked her down, taking her back to camp. It is unknown if mental illness was to blame or if it was an excess of drinking. There were some friendly people that we met. Several campers that came through were Vietnam veterans. One veteran served in the Navy and did one tour in Vietnam as an EOD diver.
Ultimately, the McFarland fire sent us into a state of panic and forced us to evacuate. Curtis had driven two hours north to Medford, Oregon, to visit an old friend from high school when the forest ranger called and told him a fire had started a few miles north of our campground. Knowing how quickly fires can burn, Curtis called and told me to pack a go-bag, unlock my scooter and get ready to ride out. If you have never been evacuated, I want you to think about what you would pack for two people if you had to leave your home and accept it may not be there when you returned. My children's maternal and paternal grandparents and many of our friends lost their homes in the Campfire that burned the entire town of Paradise, CA. Oh, the conundrum of choosing from my favorite books, sandals, jewelry, clothing, and makeup. It was easy to pack for Curtis. He wears t-shirts, shorts and has two pairs of shoes, one of which he wears. Ultimately I chose sentimentality over practicality. I could always buy more sandals, clothing, and makeup, but I could not replace the jewelry, my bible, and gifts I had onboard that the children had given us.
I packed our laptops and essential documents in my backpack. I was ready to go. I took everything out to where my scooter was parked. At this moment, the California Highway Patrol (CHP) came through the campground on a loudspeaker, telling us to prepare to evacuate. Curtis had called and said he was a half-hour away. I spent the next half-hour getting the RV packed and ready to go on the chance Curtis got back in time. Fifteen minutes before his arrival, the CHP drove through again, giving the order to leave. By now, I could see the red of flames glowing brightly through the growing thickness of the smoke. I was starting to panic inside. I got on my scooter, rode through the campground, making sure all of the campers were packing up to leave, and prayed Curtis would get back in time to hook up the trailer.
On his rush back from Medford, Curtis was pulled over for going over 100mph. After explaining the situation to the officer, he was given police escort the rest of the way. He later told me it was like the parting of the red sea, complete with lights and sirens as people moved over to make way. We loaded our scooters, waited for the last of the campers to evacuate, and drove to safety. One of the campers had not taken the CHP seriously and had not packed up. Ultimately we had to force them to leave their camping gear, get into their car and follow us out. They seemed confused about the rush to go even with visible flames and bombers flying low overhead, dropping retardant less than a mile from the camp. I would have left everything had Curtis not made it back in time. I had accepted the inevitable loss of our beautiful fifth wheel. However, material things can be replaced, but lives cannot.
Curtis and I miss the California of our childhood. The once beautiful mountains covered in pine trees have been reduced to ashes, with desert shrub brush taking their place. The snow-capped peak of Mt. Shasta from our youth is now brown and bare. The pristine lakes we learned to water ski on are nothing more than muddy ponds. Curtis wanted to go to California to recapture the feelings of joy and peace from his childhood, the memories of war had overshadowed. Instead, he was empowered by overcoming the adversity of a wildfire, getting campers to safety, saving his RV, and best of all, he proved himself a hero in my eyes all over again.
Written by: Justina Lyn, Veteran Caregiver
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