The best sandwich ever (fire news)

I've only got a second.

Well, police drove in to our little canyon today at about 2:30 and informed us that there was a "mandatory evacuation."

Just like that. It was the first time we'd seen anybody.

An hour and a half later, we took the three cars—I was in my Chrysler 300—and headed out. By then, a huge plume of smoke appeared toward Modjeska Canyon. It seemed very close, very energetic. We could see flames, too.

"Maybe we should go," I said.

Well, it wasn't easy, but we left our beautiful canyon behind. What happened after that, we have no idea.

A few minutes later, we were in a park in Mission Viejo, looking back at the mountains with lots of other people. There were huge flames in the area above Hamilton Trail (I think), near our place. There was no way to tell whether the fire had got to our homes or even still threatened them.

We saw two weird aircraft dropping pink fire retardant on the hillsides. That seemed effective. I held Sunny Girl. Didn't want to leave her in the car, 'cause she yammered so. As I held her, she was very good, clinging to her dad, saying nothing.

But it was very odd and disconcerting standing there with all these people, watching our mountains go up in smoke.

Well, we will live as vagabonds for a time. Sunny's staying with J&K for now. I'll likely be moving in with the Janster, maybe tonight.

I saw Red Emma earlier today. My mom made him a sandwich. "This is the best sandwich ever," declared Red. My mom was pleased that he liked it.

Red and I watched the TV news, which was largely infuriating for the predictable reasons. None of our questions was answered. Much of the reporting was confused or outdated.

Later, after Red left, I had a real moment, collecting things for the car. I felt that—well, never mind. I felt very low.

Don't know what's become of the Reb's place, Red Emma's place. Does anyone know what's become of Modjeska Canyon?

But I am sure everybody's safe.

When we were in Mission Viejo, my mom looked at me and said, "Don't worry! We'll build it again!" She smiled.

I thought I had hid it well. I thought she could never be that strong again.

A lot I know.

I'll be in class tomorrow, I think. See you around!

(Image: Chunk's mom, 1952.)

Evening: Reluctant, Unexpected Optimism (Red Emma; fire news)

RED EMMA reports that there may be a case for reluctant optimism as reports by sheriff department friends, eyewitnesses, and television aerial shots clearly show that houses are there in Modejska Canyon and fire engines are on the scene. In particular, homes on Markuson are evident. A reliable eyewitness saw all the homes on Olive Hill and Hill Top Drive and Kommers intact as of 3:00.

AMONG THE LOSSES: Reports suggest that the "castle" has burnt as have one house at the far eastern end. And the houses that have burned down earlier today of which we believe are four in number are located in the triangle formed by Modjeska Grade Road, Modjeska Canyon Road, and Santiago Road and include the distinctive geodesic dome house.

As Rebel Girl has already pretty much burned her own house down hours ago, she doesn't have a place to put this new information but she will do what she can.

She also knows that even if things in the canyon are better than we believed, the losses are already great and may include her own home after all, hence her relutance to embrace the optimism.

UPDATE ON CHUNK: As far as we know, Chunk left the Lambrose Canyon compound (in Trabuco) midafternoon with his parents. Their destination is Irvine (I think) where Chunk's brother lives with their daughter, son and newborn twin girls.

Consider what you can do and do it.

Good luck to us all. -RE

Andrew Tonkovich

A Modjeska Friend's Experience

Check out LA Times writer Janet Wilson's chronicle,"Reporter Returns from her Honeymoon to a Nightmare." Janet lives down the street from me. I last saw her at her bridal shower. I called her last night when she was en route home from the airport.

Her piece is on the front of the LA Times webpage.

It gives you a real sense of the scene and our community.

Afternoon

On our way home from a quick lunch and shop, we stopped by the Red Cross evacuation center at the El Toro High School gym. They're packed in- old folks, young ones, kids. Lots of cots, wheelchairs, tables with slices of cheese, meat and pickles. Cheery banners handpainted in bright tempera paint hang on the walls: YOU ARE SAFE HERE. The young kids are all in the adjacent basktball court throwing the occasional basket and drawing pictures with crayons and pens. Two TVS in the big room broadcast the nonstop TV coverage. People stare. Some sleep. What else can they do? What else is there to do?

I worry about the kids. There is not enough for them to do. If you have any ideas, perhaps some board games or something similar sitting around in your intact garage, you might want to drop them by. Who know how long they will be there? It's already been too long. You can tell.

We dropped by to see if I could find our next door neighbor, an older widow with two dogs, two cats. She wasn't there. I didn't see anyone from Modjeska. My friend told me that many people in the shelter were from San Diego.

Modjeska, by the way, is now too dangerous for firefighters on the ground or air. They moved on to other fights that they can win. That's the right thing to do.

As I drove out yesterday I admired those strangers who were staying behind to spend the night with that fire.

What are they paid? Never enough, I think. At times like these, many are anxious to call them heroes.

Remember this next time the local fire department wants more money for more equipment, more hires, more training -- and the request is on the ballot. Remember this next time their contract is up for negotiation.

Take care. Be safe. We're fine. Hope you are too.

The guy in the white hat

Wow, it’s getting weird up here in my little corner of the mountains. Ash is everywhere. The air stinks of smoke. One’s eyes continually burn.

I live along Live Oak Canyon Road, about a mile and a half up from Cook’s Corner—the famous biker bar—toward O’Neill Park (this area is usually considered part of "Trabuco Canyon"). So I’m kind of close to the action, firewise.

Didn’t get to sleep until 2:30 a.m., what with the air quality and uncertainty. Woke up at about 8:00 to a phone call from the other denizens of our little compound in the Santa Ana Mountains: my folks. They were mighty grim. I think the smoke was getting to them. “Get packed,” they said.

I needed information. The TV news wasn’t much help, and neither were my internet sources, so I drove up the grade and then down again to Cook’s. I found about ten fire crews—some from Santa Ana—coming in to relieve others. “If you want to know what’s going on,” they said, “watch the news on TV.” It’s not that they were unfriendly; it’s just that they saw the fire only up close. They had no overview.

“For that,” one firefighter said, “find the guy with the white hat.” He pointed to his own helmet, which was not white.

I didn’t want to bother the white hatted guy—I hate to bother busy firefighters!—so I drove up Modjeska grade instead. It was blocked, half way up. There were maybe thirty cars lined up along the side of the road. An attractive woman in high heels was carrying a cardboard tray of fast-food coffee up the hill. Others were doing similarly absurd things. Some people were plainly looky-looing.

When I saw the cop car at the end of the row of cars, I turned around. But I did catch a glimpse of a plume of a smallish (?) fire coming from somewhere in or near Modjeska Canyon, I think. Other indications I have received have been positive about that canyon, which was evacuated last night.

I headed back down to Cook’s, but it looked like I might not be allowed back in if I left, and so I just headed back home. As near as I could tell—the visibility is very poor—no flames threaten the hillside opposite my own. Whew!

My folks were glad to hear what I found. My mom even beamed. She’s always been the Family Fire Fearer. She refuses to go on vacations because of it. She had to escape from “the Russians” as a child, and that seems to have something to do with it. The fire is like the Russians. Nobody wants to abandon their home to either.

Yesterday, my dad told me, “Earlier, your mother was all worried about the fire, and I told her to quit worrying. I can’t tell her that now.”

The both of them are working like bees, securing everything. I leave ‘em alone. Plus I’ve got my own place to worry about. And Sunny.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, take all info with a grain of salt, I always say. For instance, all day yesterday, I heard that Modjeska Canyon had been evacuated. Even the OC Register said so.

Well, near as I can tell, that didn’t happen until early this morning. Reb and her crew evacuated last night at about 11:00, voluntarily. (See her “Pillar of Salt.”)

In the last ten minutes, the smoke has cleared out of this canyon and planes keep buzzing overhead. The air is pretty clear except up toward Modjeska, which is still smoky, but it’s the kind of vague smokiness that isn’t particularly worrisome.

At times like these, things are often not what they seem.

Tuesday Morning (Red Emma; fire news)

     Red Emma phoned in his report this morning from where Santiago Canyon Road meets Crystal Canyon, that relatively new development across from Rancho Sonado (sp?). The road closure officially begins a little bit further up at Modjeska Grade so folks like to hang out here and trade stories. 

     His news about our own home seems good as he has now spoken with two reliable people who claim that Modjeska is, at this point, intact. One fellow works for the county as a caretaker at Arden (the historical landmark, home of Madame Modjeska, which lies just below our house) and the other is our neighbor, a sheriff and, if I have this right, chief of police of Dana Point. Both had recently been in the canyon and Red actually caught the sheriff as he was exiting (within the last hour). 

     Sigh of relief here, but not too big. The day is long an the winds are strong and so many others have not been spared and our own safety may not last. The Orange County Fire Authority cites Modjeska, Williams, and Silverado canyons as immediately threatened. Portola Hills and environs are still unstable. Red reports on a particularly angry flare-up on the slopes behind Crystal Canyon. And that's just the immediate area. North, south and east—well. Damn. 

     The local Red Cross may still be looking for volunteers (El Toro High and El Modena High). The parking lot at El Toro looked full as I drove down Toledo last night. Their number is 714-481-5339. The San Diego Red Cross is asking for monetary donations and contributions of food and clothing. 

     There's lot to do. Take care. Be safe. 

     Rebel Girl (reporting from the shore of Lake Forest at 10:50 or so).

     Red reports at 11:24 that there have been at least three aerial drops from fixed wing aircraft (actually Red said "big f—ing planes.").

Andrew Tonkovich

Pillar of Salt

At 1:45 am the Register reported mandatory evacuations in Modjeska Canyon and said that fire authorities expect a loss of structures there.

We evacuated just after 10:00 pm and are now safe in the home of friends in Lake Forest. Everyone but me is asleep. I can't sleep.

As we drove the grade out of the canyon, I could finally see the fierce sweep of the fire. Somehow, looking back, I could see what I had been in. I was relieved to be leaving, but deeply sad too. I remembered Lot's wife, her backward glance and the pillar of salt she became. I feel like that now.

That said, I am fine. I have my family and we have friends in many places who have made this difficult day easier.