Sheltering in Place

Sheltering in Place
 

One story of many in the wake of the Sonoma County Wildfires. All of us here that have gone through this fire have our stories now. How did you find out? Whom do you know that lost a house? Are you safe?

I want to preface this story by saying I am writing this for my friends and family. This fire was a life-altering experience, the two-minute version most people will be getting in person just doesn’t do it justice. Maybe something in it will help you or maybe you will just understand more about me in the reading of this story.

Upon reflection, I realize Sonoma, CA, and Anacortes, WA my two hometowns have similar demographics and geographical limitations. While Fidalgo Island is surrounded by water, Sonoma is surrounded by steep mountains. So imagine all the water is slowly catching on fire dependent on the direction the wind is blowing. Then you can start to picture what our situation was here.

We all tell ourselves, if something happened I am ready. Mine was: I have canned food and water; I am young and healthy, have a pickup truck and am good under pressure. Until that moment hits you just can’t know.

My story is one of the thousands that were left in limbo for weeks. I was one of the people who made the dubious choice to “shelter in place.” Living in the buffer zone between total destruction and safety, I chose to stay until told to go, I was lucky.

Night of the Fire

3 am – Monday Morning

I am woken up by knocking on my door, at first I think I imagined it, but it does not stop. I live alone, so I am hesitant to open the door not knowing who’s on the other side. So there I am shaking with adrenaline, in my PJs trying to see out but not be seen. Finally, who ever it is stops, I am panicked but also trying to rationalize with myself.

Maybe it is a friend, or it could be a burglar? I wait, then flip on all of the outside lights. No one is out there. I get up the courage to poke my head out the front door. Nothing, I am still freaked out but now a little perturbed, who was banging on my door. I check my phone, no one had called or text nothing.

I send off a text to my insomniac best friend sharing the weird experience and go back to sleep.

In hindsight, this is the moment that scares me the most.

For many, many people in areas only 20 minutes away they were woken up by neighbors and barely made it out alive. If the fire had been close, that would have been it. I would have been a name on a list of didn’t make it, Or saw the flames and barely made it out without anything. Best case maybe lucky enough to have gotten my cats in the car and out to safety.

My alarm went off the next morning for work. I opened up my phone to a text from an island friend who lives in the East Bay Area now: Are you evacuating?

Heart rate jacks up, adrenaline floods my system, WHAT THE HECK. I start to google: Sonoma Evacuation. Moreover, the news stories start to pop up about fires in Santa Rosa. There’s no information at this point. Fire in Napa and Santa Rosa both are 30 minute plus away from me.

For my Anacortes readers imagine, Laconner and Oakharbor. Sonoma is the same demographics and geographically cut off as Fidalgo island. We have two roads leading south and one road leading north, to our South West and South East there are connections to the neighboring valleys.

There is no information on where the fires are, just that there are 4 of them and their starting locations. Two to the North, one to the East and one to the South. That means to get away from the fire there is one little winding road to the South West of a population of tens of thousands of people.

First thing is my animals: They were sleeping near me after the early morning scare, and I grab their carrier and stuff them and the carrier in the bathroom. They will not be able to hide, and no chance of them is getting out while I pack up the truck.

I immediately grab my camping supplies: Tent, Sleeping Bag, Nonperishables and misc bug spray and cooking utensils left over from my summer trip.

How much time do I have? Should I leave now? I have a local radio station streaming to my phone as I put the essentials in the car. There are no flames I can see from my house, but I am in a little dip in the valley.

I stuff my essential papers, tablet computer, and valuables into my big purse. Leaving it next to the door for when I leave. Then I pack a cooler with dried goods, cleaning out my cabinet. The whole time unsure what is going on and 0 information for our area. The radio station is talking about Santa Rosa (30 mins North) Kenwood (15 mins North) Sears Point (South) and Napa (East).

They are starting to paint the picture of the suburban areas whipped out overnight. Spanning a significant highway, through a densely populated part of a large city.

Figuring I have time, I pack up clothes and photographs. They go in the car, pillow blankets, and coats. In the back, I put the cooler with food. Fill a 5-gallon container of water, and that goes in the bed of the truck as well. As I am doing this, I am checking facebook.

Glued to my phone and completely unsure what is going on. Still, 0% containment and the radio is the only news source that has information.

Now I am sitting in my house, do I stay or go? I start looking at other things. Oh, my seed collection, if I have to start over I will need that. Into the dried goods ice chest, they go.

Day 1

By now my neighbor has come out, he is overwhelmed but very calm. “I would not know what to pack” He is out watering his plants and drifting listlessly around. Just as much at a loss as I am. Every time I pass him taking something to my truck we chat for a few minutes.

Now the pile of too valuable to leave in the car but the most important to take things are arranged near my door: a Small bag with valuables (upgraded from purse), Computer with my entire company on in, camera, phone charger, wallet, and keys.

I am listening to the radio and refreshing Facebook group page for my neighborhood. Still no word on whether Sonoma is safe, or if we should evacuate. Now the smart people just got out; this is another moment where many people would say: just go. When in doubt bug out. I agree it is better to get out early than wait until it is too late.

Monday afternoon I finally decide to go to the gas station a few blocks away. The two gas stations closest to my house are out of gas. This is only 6-8 hours into all of this. NO GAS. My truck is on empty, yup that’s right, totally empty. Worst prepper ever!

So I decide, better now than later and head to the next nearest gas station. Hoping as I am driving away leaving my cats locked in the house with all my valuables, that I will be able to get back in time. It is worth the risk and all the information says the fires are far away.

I fill up my tank; there are half a dozen other shell-shocked people around me. We are all quiet and tense. It is surreal like we are waiting for a siren to sound evacuation but it is just smokey. I feel relieved when the gas pump clicks. Full tank of gas phew!

I quickly head to the grocery store, surprised by the fact everything is normal. Not as many people as usual but still two lanes open and the water section of the store is not all cleaned out. For some reason, I expected to find chaos and panicked people.

There are only anxious and determined people weaving through the isles. A man and his elderly father are shopping, “Do you want can soup?” We all make our choices in the nonperishable isles. I am thinking, what has the most calories and nutrients? What can I eat without a stove to cook?

I grab Water, canned food, trail mix, beef jerky, and vitamins.

I sincerely thank the checker who is working through this crisis. She nods and continues her conversation with the bagger about someone she knows evacuation story.

Add the food to another cooler in my truck. Head home and wait. Everyone is out on the streets, talking seeing if anyone else knows what’s going on. 

My neighbors who had evacuated with their children the night before come back. Their parents and sisters family are now staying with them because their homes 5 minutes north of us were evacuated and they lost power. They have their dog, but the outside cat refused to come when they were trying to leave.

She felt terrible she had not been able to talk to me. She had been pounding on my door when they were getting ready to leave. Worried that I was asleep and didn’t know what was going on. We end up exchanging numbers and over the next week checking in.

My other neighbor is still wandering, talking about how much he owns and how he cannot even start packing. Going into the first night was the scariest thing. Somewhere in all of this an up to date fire map becomes available, and the neighborhood app is a connective advanced warning network. People post if the cops have knocked on their door to evacuate them or not.

All of us have heard about 777888 or the nixle alert system by now and jump every time a new text comes in. The information provided by it is still so sparse.

Stories of how the burning coals landing on roofs were part of the reason the Santa Rosa fires spread through the homes start to come up. I am out on my lawn watering down the roof, but my neighbors who share the same roof think we should conserve water.

Do we water our roofs or save the water for the firefighters? There’s no right answer.

All the reports are now saying firefighters, and first responders are not even fighting the flames. They are focused on saving lives and getting people to safety. Cell coverage is down in Napa and water is not working in Santa Rosa.

In the midst of this I am thinking, how can this be happening? We have fire hydrants, and we live in an urban area. Isn’t their plans for just this?

So the next couple days follow this pattern: Check phone for the evacuate text, check fire map to see where the fire is, listen to the radio to hear the news, follow threads on next door app to see if people in areas near me are evac’d. Rinse and repeat non stop. Maybe 10 -15 mins go in between this. All day and night, for three days solid, plus intermittently for another week.

Now the ugly part, people start to report looters. We all have our cars and trucks packed and ready to go. Some people see this as their golden opportunity.

Add to the ritual, walk out to the truck, check back and check street. Every couple of hours wet down yard and roof. This is the worst at 2 or 3 in the morning, freshly woken up from sleep. The smoke is thick, and I feel exposed.

Sleeping in your clothes because that extra few minutes might be the difference. Checking where the cats are, now let out of the bathroom. Luckily they seemed to understand and stuck close to me throughout the whole ordeal.

Day 2

Nothing is stranger than putting out your garbage cans while waiting to evacuate. As one community member said, “either way, the trash will be gone, whether it burns up or is picked up at some point.”

The smoke on Tuesday was horrendous, waking up to a house that Is almost smokier than the outside is terrifying. Again all I am doing is waiting for a knock on the door or a text saying the area is being evacuated.

The cats have their harnesses on, and their carrier is now in line up near the door. I have a wheelbarrow next to the front door, so it can all go in one quick load.

By the way, let me just take a moment to say, this is the one time living alone wasn’t a plus. I am a sound sleeper. I once had a boyfriend tell he had elbowed me in the ribs to stop my snoring and I slept through it. So needless to say I set alarms for every 2 hours and it was up to me to keep me alive.

Back to day two “Sheltering in Place” as the authorities were calling it. We were told to stay off the roads, keeping them clear for emergency persons to move from place to place quickly. Cabin fever starts to set in about now.

Day 3

I got clear on what matters to me. I was surprised by what didn’t make the cut and what did. A cherished mug or hand-crafted knife made it, but my library of books stayed.

It seemed like the fire was not going to come to Sonoma, the pattern was heading north on the mountains. I got up the nerve to drive around, seeing the smoke and fire racing down the hill to the North.

It was far enough away, I told myself. If it comes past this road, I will leave. I drove past my clients and friends houses who had evacuated. Making sure everything was ok, then letting them know. It is hard to be evacuated and not hear what is happening with your home.

Throughout all of this, I have to say it was incredible to get calls, messages and hear from people in my life. A friend from home called late Tuesday and talking to her for an hour or two made the wait better. Having my mother to field questions was priceless. I would check in with her one or two times a day and let her know where things stood. Maybe downplaying how close the fires were a bit.

A call came from my ex-mother in law. She was worried that I was not planning to leave. She is an avid survivalist and probably the most educated on what to do in a disaster. It made me think, should I just go?

By now I am sitting in my house, all my paintings are off the walls, all my valuables packed. I am in a zen place of acceptance. I have mentally and emotionally let go of it. I have no control over whether this house survives the fire and the things left in it are not worth the energy to pack them.

All of the weather reports were bad; the wind was predicted to shift. Pushing the fires towards the town instead of into the hills.

Then Wednesday late afternoon the text comes Advisory evacuation.

Finally, my neighbor decides to leave. There are only four houses with people still left on a block of 20 or so. The one across the road is getting ready to go as well. My neighbor catches the outdoor cat and comes by to hug me.

I am right behind him, putting my valuables in the car and finally the cats. I take a moment before locking the door on a house that might not even be here tomorrow. It hits me so hard; I’m now homeless for what I can only hope is a few days but might be permanent.

This is the moment I am sure we all had. If my house is gone, what does that mean for my future?

My business is locations based, I depend on local people hiring me for my local service. This is something that I have spent four years creating a network of people and a reputation. Most if not all of my work comes from someone recommending me to someone else.

If I left and moved back to Washington, I would be back to square one. Moreover, didn’t I move here because this is where I want to live the rest of my life? However, my network of friends, family, and support is all in Washington State.

I have two or three options getting in that truck:

•  Go to a friend’s apartment.
• Go to an acquaintance’s house.
• Go to my old middle school’s teacher’s house.
• Camp out at the Raceway or go to a Shelter that accepts pets.

Now, let me stop here and say all of this until now was a huge blessing. To have the time to pack up everything I wanted. To be alive and have my cats safe with me. To have anywhere at all to go is something not to be taken for granite.

It was overwhelming having to make a choice. I realize how as a single female with a truckload of valuables and two non-lethal kitties I make a delightfully great target. I am honestly leaning towards the campground, is in the sweet spot. Far enough away but still close enough to check on things. However, cats plus air mattress plus tent sounds like a cruel joke.

I decide to head to my family friend’s adult children’s house on the outskirts of Sonoma. I can assess from there, they have a spare room and are great people.

This is where the FUCK moment happens. Anacortes friends, imagine everyone in town is evacuation except for the downtown. The only road to leave by is over deception pass. Traffic did not even describe this.

I started out thinking: eh I have time I will take a long way. It will give me time to think about where I want to go. I am driving along; it is busy, yes, but it is ok. I turn on the street that connects to the main road, and it is a dead stop. It took me 3 hours to go 5-10 blocks. Even on the main road it is just as slow. A drive that usually takes under 10 minutes took over 3 hours!

Now it is dark; I am watching was dozens of police SUVs stream past sirens blaring the opposite way. My cats are in road trip mode and hunkered down on the fluffy jackets and blankets. The stoplight turns green 4 or 8 times before the cars move forward enough for someone to turn or go forward to the intersection.

I stop to say hello to my also evacuated friends, after many hugs and some dinner, I am back on the road at 10 pm. Driving by roadblock after roadblock, I realize there’s no way to come back. It was both terrifying and relieving to finally get out of the immediate danger.