How California wildfire united people
John Heubusch, American novelist and the executive director of the prestigious Reagan Foundation and Library/Gulf News
Disasters are a test of human endurance and have a way of bringing people together
When Californians see the tragic weather events that interrupt the lives of so many year round in other parts of the country, we grimace. Most of us have friends or relatives back East who have been caught in a storm of one kind or another.
But, to be honest, it’s often hard to relate to those stories when the weather here is so friendly all year. Sunny and mild most all of the time. No hurricanes. No such thing as a tornado. Our blizzards stay in the mountain ski resorts where they belong. We rarely hear of floods because our constant droughts dictate that we seem to never, ever see a drop of rain. There’s just no weather here.
That is, until the fires arrive.
Santa Ana winds that come roaring out of the Western desert about this time each year arrived last Thursday. They were not a welcome guest. This time, they’ve brought with them massive fires and a world turned upside down. No one knows just yet how the fires got their start. Flames erupted nearly simultaneously in several canyons that stretch like fingers into the San Fernando Valley. A quarter-million people living just north of Los Angeles had to evacuate.
Many managed the escape the California way. There we sat, stalled in traffic for hours, as famous freeways such as the Pacific Coast Highway along the ocean were closed north and south to make way for the fire trucks. They moved fast, but for many, unfortunately, not fast enough. Large swaths of comfortable neighbourhoods; Paramount Ranch, the site for countless Western movies; idyllic outdoor restaurants; mansions, horse ranches and vineyards were ravaged as flames jumped the 10 lanes of Highway 101 intent on making their way to Malibu, 25 kilometres west.
Make it, they did. 80km/h gusts of wind might not sound like much to the hurricane hardened. But when they are pushing a 12-metre wall of fire down suburban streets, you know it’s trouble. Two people have died in Los Angeles and Ventura counties. Our neighbours to the north, victims of the “Camp Fire,” have fared far worse.
There, at least three dozen have perished in the most destructive firestorm in California history, many of them trapped in their cars as they attempted to outrun the flames. More than 200 people are missing. The entire town of Paradise in the Sierra Nevada foothills is gone. Some 6,700 structures, most of them homes, vanished in just a few hours.As I type this on my iPhone, I am standing in the middle of the street a hundred metres from our home where, by some miracle, there is still some cell coverage. Scores of neighbourhoods around me lie quiet, without power, many guarded by police to prevent looting or the return of owners trying to find if their houses still stand.
Hundreds of homes and countless memories lie in ashes. I am told satellite views from space show much of southern California shrouded in smoke. I believe it. Most everyone you meet smells like a campfire. A haze fills the air, and it’s not safe to breathe. Children cough. Eyes burn.
You find that these moments are tests. What do you reach for in the dark when the power is out and you have just minutes to pack only what you can carry? Everyone is tired, running on adrenalin. When you are forced from normality so quickly, it’s difficult to sleep. But there are benefits, too. It’s been heartening to see people in our neighbourhood come together to help one another like never before. We’ve met new and wonderful people. Hugs are shared. The fires have found a way to forge us together like nothing before.