By SU STELLA/For The Herald — There was a house fire just the other day in Oakridge, and I really don’t know what shook me up more — looking at the evergreen trees and maples that are turning brown, or the casual attitude that it was no big deal — “only one house.”
It is a HUGE deal. Oakridge is a tinderbox.
Look everywhere and see the fallen leaves. It is not autumn. Summer solstice was on June 21. SUMMER! Our town is crisping and wilting every day before our eyes.
Greenwaters Park is almost brown. Diamond Peak should be a glistening white beacon greeting our tourists. Instead, it’s getting darker by the hour.
Look around. Fire moves FAST! Think of our daily afternoon winds.
My friends Marie and Lance lost everything in the Paradise, Calif., fire. They are musicians and she is a photographer. Some may be thinking that with homeowners insurance everything can be rebuilt, which structurally is correct but you can’t replace all those stupid little things like a favorite mug, a stack of old birthday cards or silly souvenir.
On Nov. 8, 2018, Marie and Lance woke up to just another ordinary day. Oakridge residents need to hear their story, and Marie has given me permission to share it:
In Marie’s own words:
“The most traumatic evacuation was the Camp Fire itself. Paradise residents had to save themselves that day, for no evacuation orders were able to be given. I woke up after a poor night’s sleep at 8:10 am, wishing only to turn back over for more. I noticed an eerie, orange light leaking in around the curtains. Thinking it was an extraordinary sunrise, I rose to see it. I was horrified to see the largest, blackest cloud, blocking most of the sky, trimmed in that eerie orange. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I hurried to find Lance in the living room.
“Lance was completely unaware of the situation, as he still had the curtains drawn. I dressed hurriedly, and jumped onto the computer for information. The only mention I could find was on a FaceBook page about Butte County. It stated that there was a fire in Pulga, 10 acres large. I knew there was a fire burning much larger than that! “Don’t worry, they will notify us if we have to evacuate, like last year” Lance stated.
“I indicated that we needed to load up the car right away. Good thing, as no one ever called, no evacuation orders were ever issued. All anyone in Paradise had to rely on for their survival that day were themselves.
“We were unable to load the car with very many items before a large explosion shook the ground. Both cats were missing now. My husband saw something glowing, floating down towards him. He caught the glowing bird nest, then it burst into flames. I was then hit on the head with a piece of glowing pine bark as large as my hand. “We have to go right now, or we won’t be able to get out,” Lance screamed.
“We shouted the same at two neighbors and went to check on a neighbor who is disabled and can’t drive. She did not answer the pounding on her door, although we found out later she was there, sleeping. Thankfully, another friend went to get her, just after we left. Thank goodness, or we would have been even more traumatized by that event.
“It took forever to get out onto Elliot Road, the first road we needed to get out onto. We had to force someone to let us out. We sat on Elliot for 15 minutes, surrounded by chaos and the sounds of explosions. A police car escorting five Propane Trucks whizzed by. This prompted the discussion of possibly dying right there.
“We inched forward enough to see that No One was directing traffic at Elliot and the Skyway. We discussed Lance getting out and walking down to do so, with me picking him up soon as I got there, but someone arrived to do that before he got there, so we waited our turn to get on the Skyway-seemed like forever. We made it to the Skyway, through the old downtown, now with only one lane in each direction after a “traffic improvement” project, which cost lives in this circumstance. We saw flames 150 feet in the air, close to the Skyway as we drove past, right behind the Feather River Health Center. “These flames will shoot over the road in minutes!” I exclaimed. “People are going to die on this road today.” And that’s what happened.
The only reason we made it out alive is that we left everything behind — all of our personal items, treasured creative work of our music and paintings, our 10 guitars, other instruments and sound gear, our 1,700 vinyl record album collection, my cameras, my portfolio of photography work, my negatives and digital photo back-ups, all of my side of the family’s photos and home movies, art supplies, collectibles, gifts from my dead friends and family members. Everything. All that remains now is that everything is gone, forever gone.”
The fire was the first trauma
After they escaped, life was anything but normal. They lived in 8 different places over 14 months. Marie continues:
“Lance’s 80-year-old sister took us in, but we went to friends after three days, since she had to sleep on her couch for us.
“We stayed at a friend’s house for two months. Then a motel, paid for by FEMA.
‘We were supposed to sign a lease in April 2019, but we were not allowed by HUD Housing Authority within one day of doing so, due to bad drinking water (damaged pipes creating benzene, you see).
“We stayed at a motel through July 2019. We finally got an apartment in Oroville but were asked to leave within three months since it was ‘illegally uninhabitable’ (the new AC/heater didn’t work, new windows leaked). Back to the motel for a week, FEMA ran out, so went to see Mom in Oregon for 10 days. We slept in the car a few nights, another friend took us in for three months, until we got this place.
“I left out the two times we had to move out of the motel to go on the road to look for housing — you had to do that if you weren’t going to be there every night. They called this way of living (if you could call it that) sheltered homeless. By any other name, it sucked!
It happened that fast
Oakridge is a nature lover’s paradise. We are blessed by the trees, rivers and scenery. This summer we all have to be extra careful in preventing any fire from starting.
Oakridge’s only escape is Highway 58, which is hazardous on a normal day.
Most of you don’t know me, but we lived in Biloxi, Mississippi, when Hurricane Katrina hit. Evacuating is not fun, easy or cheap. We were laughed at by the locals who said they “never cut and run. ”
Our neighbor later told us, “I stopped laughing when I stood in the dark, with the water up to my knees, not knowing how deep it was going to get.”
I can’t tell you what to do or when to evacuate, but in my next article for The Herald I will share everything we learned by evacuating for Hurricanes Dennis, Katrina, Rita and so many more.
Su Stella grew up just outside of Boston. She started her globe-trotting at age 18 with a trip to Spain. She traveled throughout Europe and South America. After a year in Switzerland, she lived in an RV for thr years exploring the United States and oddly settling in the cotton fields of Mississippi. She was a roulette dealer when she met Curt, her partner of 24 years, at the casino that they worked at. They lived in Biloxi when Hurricane Katrina hit, then on to Shreveport, Louisiana, and now they reside in Oakridge. Read about their adventures in their online magazine www.HippieDayTripper.com
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