Wildfires

I live in a high desert environment in northern Nevada. This means that sagebrush and other scrub bushes blanket the land for hundreds of miles in every direction. In the hot, dry summers, this brush turns to tinder, eager to be lit by the smallest ember. Our tiny town was the definition of a fire hazard. On Friday, a high wind began to blow, accompanying the thunderstorm that would begin the siege on Winnemucca.

Winnemucca lies between to parallel rows of mountains. The town has spread out; housing developments now dot the mountainsides. Thunderstorms bring lightning, and when lightning strikes the fire-hungry ground, blazes spring up. Friday evening, the mountains were dotted with fires, that were soon under control. Saturday morning dawned, bringing with it fresh winds, awakening the smoldering embers.

By Saturday afternoon, the devouring blazes were too large for Winnemucca's small fire-fighting force to control. A 12,000 acre fire was only two percent contained, and the blazes would soon begin to threaten houses. The call went out for backup from the surrounding areas. Being a resident of one of the many housing developments on the mountainsides, I was worried about the vast feast of sagebrush that was my backyard.

As the fires moved closer, evacuation procedures began. The drone of planes flying overhead could be heard, and the glow of fires was barely discernible through the thick, choking smoke that enveloped the town, blotting out the sun. Volunteers in pickup trucks and on foot told us to get out and get out fast. In order to save all of our cars, our family all drove separate cars. I took Mary with me and we headed for a friend's house, far away from danger. I sped away from the house and the fire, down the hill, smoke obscuring my vision, as my sister sobbed in fear of the flames closing in on us. I attempted to stay calm in order to drive straight, but I had to grip the steering wheel to stop my hands from shaking.

We watched our hill from afar for three hours as the cloud of smoke continued to thicken. The unbroken sirens were a constant reminder of the danger close at hand. As the time crawled by, I couldn't help remembering the things I'd left behind. My art, boxes of photos, letters, and other sentimental valuables that were irreplaceable. Rumors trickled down to us through a grapevine of sources until we were informed that we were allowed to return to our street. We drove cautiously back, prepared for the worst. It was nine-thirty at night, but the stars were veiled from sight by impenetrable clouds. Our house was all in one piece, although it was filled with noxious smoke. We aired out the house and lit scented candles to cover the pungent odor. From my front door I could still see huge tracts of land being consumed by flames, not too far from my house.

Sunday morning, the fire moved on to the east and west of us. Smoke can still be seen rising to meet its turbid brothers. So far the fire has burned around 250,000 acres. It is the middle of July in sunny Nevada, but clouds cover the sky. The scars of the blazes can be seen. While one side of the road is filled with sagebrush, the other looks like the surface of the moon. Charred telephone poles and the blackened remains of a shed are reminders of the destructive force of a fire.

I will never forget the fear I felt the night of July 7th, 2007. I will never forget the love of friends and family, who gathered with us and called us and prayed with us. I will never forget how it felt to not know if I would have a home in a few hours or not. If you prayed for me, or supported me during that time of fear, thank you so much.

Much love,

Katy



PS: Pictures will be coming soon.