About 2:20 pm this afternoon I walked upstairs and simultaneously smelled smoke and heard sirens. I flipped open the curtain and swore. Above us, on the mountain, there was a fire about half a mile away, with no defensible lines between us and it. At least the wind was blowing from us toward it.
When one lives in the urban wild land interface, one tends to always have a plan about what one will do during a close wild fire. I already had the truck near the stock trailer, but it took a bit a time to get it hooked up. The truck is old and cranky, and wasn’t at first very cooperative. Jack pointed out I’d left the parking brake on, and took over the driving part of hitching up.
I called my friend D and left a message to say I was bringing horses. Somewhat to my astonishment all three horses loaded without a fuss. Lily the mare can be obnoxious about loading, and I loaded her last so she wouldn’t be able to kick another horse. When I asked her to load, it almost seemed like she realized she had to do it to stay with her herd.
Fortunately, the truck smoothed out by the time I got to the “real” roads. D met me when I pulled in her drive and we took all three horses to the field where Magic and Lily used to live. Rags lived there a short while too when the roof of the old barn blew off the building.
D drove me back home so I could get the Forrester and was appalled when she saw how close the wildfire is to our place. We had to pass a check point and I showed my driver’s license as the road our house is on is closed. As we drove up the road, we passed other horse trailers, evacuating “just in case.”
I packed clothes, medications, photos, old journals, computer hardware, camera, and dogs into the Forrester. I opened all gates to our property, for easy access. We are now all tucked in a D’s house. Jack is staying at home, but can evacuate with five minutes notice in his car.
The fire is named Beaver Creek Fire.
And no, I don’t have photos of the fire. I’ve been busy. Jack ought to have some great ones.
