Coming home on a Friday noon, a couple freeway exits before our usual offramp, we saw this hellish firestorm scene unfolding right in front of our dashboard:
Rushing home, an even closer and scarier sight from our backyard:
The fire was ravaging homes just a few blocks down the street:
The fire was ravaging homes just a few blocks down the street:
This tree on a slope less than a hundred years away from our home was burning and fuming like crazy:
This tree on a slope less than a hundred years away from our home was burning and fuming like crazy:
We evacuated right away, first to a Costco parking lot down the hill to conduct and abort a pre-scheduled Zoom meeting, then to a gym in a neighboring city we regularly go to, had some food and did some workout there, was getting ready to go to my wife's cousin's in a nearby coastal town when she realized she didn't bring her daily medicine with her when we left the house. She wanted to go back, and I wanted to check how our house fared (was it still there?), so we drove home.
We evacuated right away, first to a Costco parking lot down the hill to conduct and abort a pre-scheduled Zoom meeting, then to a gym in a neighboring city we regularly go to, had some food and did some workout there, was getting ready to go to my wife's cousin's in a nearby coastal town when she realized she didn't bring her daily medicine with her when we left the house. She wanted to go back, and I wanted to check how our house fared (was it still there?), so we drove home.
The freeway was eerily smooth, and no cordoning-off of our neighborhood. Everything seemed quieted down already.
The burning tree was now a parched hull:
The fire down the street had been put out:
The only smoke left was some lazy waft from a simmering structure across the valley:
That burned through the whole evening before it finally fizzled out at night:
That burned through the whole evening before it finally fizzled out at night:
Hats off to Orange County fire authorities' quick and effective responses: I saw beelining helicopters and air tankers attacking burning bushes on the hillside, fire trucks rushing in and stationed in our neighborhood a couple nights after the fire to make sure no new flare-up. Well prepared, well coordinated, well conducted team to the rescue!
Unusual events cause unusual encounters. On the evening when we decided to stay home after we got back from the gym, we heard a knock on the door. Could it be the police coming to ask us to leave? I opened the door, and it was an Asian lady.
"I am your neighbor two houses down the street," she introduced herself, smiling.
"Yes I think I know you," I said. They are a Korean couple about our ages that's been living here as long as we have been.
"If you don't mind me asking, do you plan to stay here tonight or to evacuate? ... My husband says he will not evacuate!" she smiled, apologetically.
I told him we planned to stay. She seemed relieved and thanked us and left. That was the first time I spoke to my two-house-down neighbor in fourteen and a half years living here. I felt we were not that strange any more.
In an emergency situation like this, when you have to leave without a moment's notice, what are the essential things you take with you? In our case, we took the passports, the title of my car (just because it's in an imminent transaction), the gym bag that's always in the car, and wallet and purses and phones that have long become our bodily extensions anyway.
I used to hear the most heartbreaking thing as a result of a devastating fire is the loss of precious photos. But all my photos are in Google cloud that no fire can touch (unless, of course, all the data centers in the world are burned down). As a matter of fact, all those "essential" documents (passports, driver's licenses, car titles, etc.) are well kept at and reproducible from institutional databases, so are our financial instruments: credit cards, bank accounts, investment portfolio, etc. One physical wildfire cannot destroy our identity, means of life, etc. Our digital world seems quite solid in that sense (unless, of course, cyber criminals crumble it).
Meanwhile, I visited our clubhouse a couple days ago, and was amazed by the burgeoning greenery the charred hillside seemed to be sprouting already just ten days after the fire. The ever present, incessant power of Nature to rebirth and recover itself!
"I am your neighbor two houses down the street," she introduced herself, smiling.
"Yes I think I know you," I said. They are a Korean couple about our ages that's been living here as long as we have been.
"If you don't mind me asking, do you plan to stay here tonight or to evacuate? ... My husband says he will not evacuate!" she smiled, apologetically.
I told him we planned to stay. She seemed relieved and thanked us and left. That was the first time I spoke to my two-house-down neighbor in fourteen and a half years living here. I felt we were not that strange any more.
In an emergency situation like this, when you have to leave without a moment's notice, what are the essential things you take with you? In our case, we took the passports, the title of my car (just because it's in an imminent transaction), the gym bag that's always in the car, and wallet and purses and phones that have long become our bodily extensions anyway.
I used to hear the most heartbreaking thing as a result of a devastating fire is the loss of precious photos. But all my photos are in Google cloud that no fire can touch (unless, of course, all the data centers in the world are burned down). As a matter of fact, all those "essential" documents (passports, driver's licenses, car titles, etc.) are well kept at and reproducible from institutional databases, so are our financial instruments: credit cards, bank accounts, investment portfolio, etc. One physical wildfire cannot destroy our identity, means of life, etc. Our digital world seems quite solid in that sense (unless, of course, cyber criminals crumble it).
Meanwhile, I visited our clubhouse a couple days ago, and was amazed by the burgeoning greenery the charred hillside seemed to be sprouting already just ten days after the fire. The ever present, incessant power of Nature to rebirth and recover itself!
* A short video recorded by a gardener driving by our community clubhouse on the day of fire:
https://youtube.com/shorts/VzpDf1NSEtE?feature=share
https://youtube.com/shorts/VzpDf1NSEtE?feature=share
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