Bakersfield.com

All > News
The Piute Fire
Topics: piute fire, piute mountains
Posted by citizenjournalist Tue Jul 1, 2008 15:30:48 PDT
Viewed 639 times
0 responses 1 comment

June 30 2008: I spotted the first slim plume of smoke spiraling from the forest Saturday afternoon, and instantly knew it would be a bad fire.
    It had been shaping up to be a busy and fun weekend at our off-the-grid home in the Piute Mountains above Walker’s Basin. Some friends were spending a few days; we planned to swim and maybe barbeque, if it weren’t too windy.
    As we greeted our friends, some visitors at a campground off Piute Mountain Road apparently were not as cautious about the fire conditions and according to emergency responders, lit a campfire that got out of control.

Fire spotted just east of our house on Saturday

3:29 p.m., Saturday June 28: The white smoke twists into the blue sky directly east of our house; it looks just a few miles away, behind a thickly forested ridge. As soon as I spot the fire, we contact our neighbors via hand-held radios and find out the fire has already been reported to authorities. Next we begin preparing for an evacuation, should it become necessary. I look around to count the lives I feel responsible to protect. My partner; our wrangler/caretaker; two girlfriends, one from LA and one from Wofford Heights; six of our dogs and two guest canines; four cats; and most troublingly, four wild-born mustang horses and a mule. The horses concern me because they are all adopted or rescued, and although we spend every spare moment working to gentle and train them, they are not what one would call “easy loaders”. In other words, we could get them into a trailer, but it would be a scary and possibly dangerous task. We discuss leading two horses several miles down the dirt road - hoping the others follow - where we could pen them at a neighbor’s ranch; or even opening the corral gates and letting them loose as a last-ditch option. I’m not comfortable with the last and marginally okay with the second plan. So we decide to wait until evacuation is obviously needed, then we’ll try to trailer them.
    We run the generator to pump the well, filling up the water tanks, and fill our resident fire truck, (a Ford Ranger equipped with a tank, pump and fire hoses).
    We tell our houseguests to keep their belongings packed and ready to load back into their vehicles; we herd the pack of dogs inside the house. I gather up computer, papers, photographs, and a bag of clothes. We turn on the police scanner to get information on the location and direction of the fire. The scanner is busy with chatter, this fire is getting a lot of attention.

Mountain resident alerts neighbors of the status of the fire

5:39 p.m. Saturday: Now the fire has split into two. The bases of the smoke columns periodically flare with black and orange. The smoke plume drifts to the north across the top of the mountains. We finish cooking a turkey (safely inside in the oven), eat some dinner, and feed the horses. We will take turns keeping an eye on the fire all night. It seems not to be moving our way, so after dinner, with everything ready to go if we need to leave, we start watching a movie. With darkfall the fire begins to glow and we can now see flames, especially through a friends spotting scope. We keep getting up from the movie to check the fire.
    As the night darkens the fire seems to intensify, glowing fantastically against the blackness. There is a loud crack- just like thunder – as a tree explodes into a fireball. My depth perception is disabled; it’s hard to tell whether the fire’s eastern edge is moving closer. Even though the wind’s in our favor, a light north-west breeze that decreases to an almost windless night, we know that between that fire and our place is only a few hundred acres of tinder dry brush, oaks and pines, sticky with super-flammable resin.

11:00 p.m. Saturday. As a precaution we send our houseguests down the road to a neighbor’s in Thompson Canyon. I follow, my car loaded with dogs, planning to come back for the horses. At the neighbor’s a small crowd is gathered on lawn chairs as if in a theater, watching the show. The canyon ahead is filled with flames, and sparkling spot-fires spread out on both sides of the canyon walls. The smoke is invisible except where it blocks out the stars. As beautiful and awesome as this view is, I’m reassured by more experienced neighbors that our place is out of harm’s way for the night.
    We caravan back up the mountain and one by one, fall into an uneasy and too-brief sleep.

By Sunday the Piute Fire has consumed the canyon

Sunday, June29: Sunday morning we blearily arise and survey the spread of the destruction. Smoke now billows from east to north, filling the sky. At just after 7 a.m. helicopters begin to circle and later the air support begins. All afternoon a spotter plane followed by a behemoth jet cruise directly over the house and then circle the mountain and dive into the smoke. We see some the orange spray of fire suppressant and cheer.
But despite the air assault the fire continues to move.
    In the late afternoon we go swimming and joke about being scooped up by the helicopters. Luckily, it doesn’t happen.
 
Monday June 30, 2008: Monday morning, the fire is still burning from area it was started to behind the top of the mountain to our north, and relentlessly moving onward. There are a few passes from the aircraft, and we’re visited by a Forest Service fireman from Colorado. He wants to know how many permanent residents live above us on the mountain. We tell him we’re the last but there are a number of weekend homes further up atop Red Mountain. He sends a crew up to scout the buildings and the progress of the flames.
    More aircraft support and helicopters begin dipping water from the ponds in the Basin. We pump the well and refill all water tanks and water the garden, which feels like a hopeful gesture.
    7:20 p.m.
    The main fire seems to have split mostly to the north leaving behind a troublesome child: smudgy smoke is still billowing from a dozen hotspots lining Thompson Canyon. We just heard on our radios that our neighbors that were our evacuation point have themselves been told to be ready to leave. Atop Red Mountain, mandatory evacuation orders are in force.
    The dogs go off: it’s KCSD Detective John Nobles and Senior Deputy James Stratton with our Evacuation Notice. They say that unless the wind changes direction we’re okay. “If you see the smoke coming over the house, it’s time to think about getting the horses out of here,” he advises.
In addition to the top of our mountain, Claraville, Valley View off Saddle Springs Road, Rocky Point and Lieble Ranch are recommended evacuation areas, meaning, “the fire is an imminent threat and all persons in the evacuation area are strongly advised to leave and seek shelter…”
    Behind the mustang’s corral, the hills smoke; the sun’s going down, and soon we’ll look again into the orange-hot heart of the fire.

Send to a Friend

Report a Violation

Comment From: TheMightyTexan

I hope ya'll are ok.. I've been checking your post everyday for an update and am just so concerned. I pray ya'll are ok.. Joe