Blaise Pascal was an a**hole (fire news)

I got to keep moving, I got to keep moving
Blues falling down like hail, blues falling down like hail
And the days keep reminding me, there's a hellhound on my trail
Hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail
I can tell the wind is risin', the leaves tremblin' on the trees
Leaves tremblin' on the trees
I can tell the wind is risin', leaves tremblin' on the trees
All I need is my little sweet woman
To keep my company, hey, hey, my company

—Robert Johnson

I KEEP MISSING Reb and Red Emma. I've left messages, and they've left messages, but I haven't spoken with either of them since Tuesday. From what I hear, they're doing fine. They seem confident that their home has been spared.

At times of disaster and emergency, I always feel more connected to people. And not just friends and loved ones. I feel more connected to the many who live most or all their days in uncertainty or worse.

My time of uncertainty was late Tuesday and early Wednesday. Short-lived and feeble, I know. Since then, I've been living with the improbability that my Stuff (that's "stuff" with a capital "s") will be destroyed (including all of my Dissent stuff, which, to tell you the truth, I don't give a rat's ass about).

At this point, the probability of disaster-for-Chunk has declined to about .1 or lower, I guess.

Living with the likelihood of personal non-disaster is like holding a grenade that is very likely not going to blow up. If somebody comes up to you and says, "Hey, Grenade Boy! We just heard that the likelihood of your maimage and/or death with that grenade in your hand has gone down further! Ain't that good news?"—well, you smile, but you also cringe.

It all reminds me of Pascal's Wager. Do you know it? Pascal was a clever bastard. He said that there exist two possibilities, for either God exists or God does not exist. That's obvious.

He then said that you've got two choices, for you're either gonna believe in Him or not. Which is it gonna be? At this point, says, Pascal, you've gotta do a "cost/benefit" analysis with an eye to expected outcomes assessed in terms of probabilities.

OK then. Suppose you believe in Him. In that case, you've got nothing to lose and much to gain, 'cause if God exists, He'll bestow paradise on you, which is good, and if he doesn't exist, then so what. You've got a false belief. You've already got lots of those, especially if you're a Republican. One more won't make any difference.

Now suppose you don't believe in Him. In that case, you've got lots to lose. If he doesn't exist, then, all right, you got that one right. You don't win any prizes, though. But if he DOES exist, you are in one shitload of trouble, 'cause God punishes bigtime when somebody has the temerity not to believe in him, despite the paucity of evidence of Him and the clear and distinct urgings of common fucking sense that God is like Santa Claus.

So do the math. Sure, God isn't likely to exist. Just like Santa. But if he DOES exist, you are faced with a fate "a shittier than which cannot be conceived," as Anselm might put it. A 1% chance of INFINITE SHITTITUDE = well, a shitload of shittitude, fer sher.

I sometimes explain Pascal's Wager to my students. Then I'll hold up a board marker and I'll say, "OK, choose to believe that this here board marker is a potato. Go ahead."

LAST NIGHT, I spent some time with the family, who are assembled at the Irvine home of my little brother The Ronald. He and his wife just had twins. I decided to take pictures of these creatures.

Didn't wanna weird them out with a flash, so I took these pics hand-held, sans flash. They're a little fuzzy.

One of these gals is named Catherine. The other is named Natalie. They're very quiet babies. One seems always calm and collected. The other is generally peevish and gives people the stink eye. But she's pretty quiet about it.

Reminds me of the Sunny Girl.

THIS MORNING, after jawing with the Janster for a bit—while watching Sunny and her long-lost son Mojo warily interact—I headed over to the college (IVC). It was a ghost town. Saw no cops. Saw a couple of stray students. I had no idea what they were up to. I didn't stick around.

So, now, I'm here with Susan and the twins. What's next? I have no idea. Guess I'll peruse the latest fire news at OC Register online.

That Pascal sure was an asshole.

Mountain Bob (fire news)

I DROVE UP El Toro Road toward Cook's Corner today, hoping to get to my place near Trabuco Canyon (Live Oak Canyon), which I evacuated two days ago, owing to the fire.

As expected, a cop was there to keep everyone out.

"Well, I live here," I explained. I showed the cop my (expired) Drivers License.

"No exceptions."

As he said that, a KNX News Radio truck drove down from the canyon. The cop waved at its occupants as though he knew them.

I gestured at the truck.

"Except for the news media," said the cop.

So I parked behind Cook's and started walking up Harris Grade. I figured the cop was too busy to notice me. He was.

It was hot, and I wasn't really dressed for a midday hike, but it's only a mile to the top of the grade and it isn't much further from there to Lambrose Canyon.

About a third of the way up, the burned area on the Modjeska side (left) became visible. It was pretty ugly.

Took some pics. Check 'em out. [Click on the pics to enlarge them.]


When I got to the top, I could see what had happened to Hamilton Trail, which is on the left (the peak) side of Live Oak Canyon Road. It contains a few dozen homes.

It looked pretty bad. No homes were burned, but everything around them was black and still smoking.

I ran into a guy in a truck who lived there. Some people decided to defy the mandatory evacuation. They drive around from Cook's Corner down to O'Neill Park, but they can't drive through the cop blockades—that is, they can't leave—'cause if they do, they aren't let back in.

This guy explained that, at one point, the fire was "360 degrees" around his house. He gestured a circle around himself and made a horrified face.

But the firefighters saved it, he said.

"That's great," I said.

I've been through fires before, and so I wasn't surprised by the devastation, the ugliness, the silence.

As it turns out, my side of Live Oak Canyon Rd. was entirely unscathed, near as I could tell. Below Hamilton Trail, most of the peak side had been saved too.

I walked through the oak trees to Lambrose Canyon and spotted "Mountain" Bob at the entrance of our little colony. He commenced telling me stories. "The flames," he said, were "200 feet high." "I'd never seen anything like it."

"I got religion," he said.

Bob is pretty ironic. So I don't think he was serious.

Later, he asked me, "Do you believe in God, Chunk?"

"Nope."

"O.K. Ever heard of Herbert Spencer?"

He went on like that. Bob's a character, he is.


When I got to the Wheeler Compound, everything was exactly as we had left it on Tuesday.

The doors at my parents' place were unlocked. I walked in, checked things out. I had a beer. Then I locked the doors and left.

I headed up to my place. It was utterly quiet. I made a couple of phone calls, checked out a leaking water tank.

I noticed lots of billowing smoke coming from behind and to the left of Modjeska Peak. (See pic above.) That didn't look good.


Then I headed back down.

On my way out, I talked with Bob again. He offered to drive me back to Cook's Corner—or just short of it anyway.

"Great," I said.

"We'll take my Prius! It's up there!" He motioned to a high point next to his house. I walked up there as he parked his truck on the other side of his house.

No Prius.

"There's no Prius up here, Bob," I shouted.

He looked concerned. He climbed up to where I was. "Where's my Prius?," he said. He thought a moment. Then he cursed.

"We'll take my diesel!" shouted Bob.

"Sounds good," I said.

"But it's got no fuel, so we might not make it."

That's Bob for you. Off we went.

When I drove away from Cook's, I could see Bob arguing with two cops at the blockade.

Love that Bob.

Mid-Afternoon Update: 4:00 pm Thursday

TWO OF THE WONDERS of our canyon community are our schools: the Silverado Elementary School and the Silverado Children's Center. These two institutions are adjacent each other on Santiago Canyon Road, midway between Jackson Ranch and Silverado Canyon and nurture the minds and hearts of the canyon children who attend.

Rumors spread earlier today that the children's center had burned and I wondered how I'd break that sad news to my son. He's been a student there for three years now, under the inspired guidance of teachers Aimee B., Sara H., sweet Jenny, and canyon legend Chay P. The center is not-for-profit and a project of the Silverado-Modjeska Parks and Recreation Department. Its serves the needs of families in the canyon and beyond, offering quality affordable preschool and after-school care. Our son has forged friendships there not only with his peers but with the farm animals, Tiny the pig and Jazzy the goat. He has only recently and proudly matriculated to the the famous "school-agers'" classroom. Just last month, my little guy started kindergarten with 17 other children at Silverado Elementary School. The elementary school, part of the Orange Unified School District, has served generations of canyon kids. It's a small school; fewer than 100 children are enrolled in grades K-6.

Then word arrived this afternoon that confirmed the both the school and the center had survived. The Children's Center director Aimee B. acknowledged that much work will need to be done before they can open. (There's a project for folks with time and perhaps money.) The two schools are standing and whole (minus a quonset hut) and that is very, very good news.

The same email declared that not one home had been lost in Silverado Canyon -- though it admitted that there was risk still from still blazing hot spots and unstable winds.

On a more personal note, the visit to the doctor proved helpful. Rebel Girl now has an inhaler to help with her breathing as well as other medication to take. She is supposed to rest her voice (in other words, SHUT UP) and take it easy. She'll do her best. She already feels better.

Thursday Morning: Air Support?

Sleepless night. Too much smoke and bad dreams. You can't sleep when you have to cough.

Journalist and UCI instructor, Celeste Fremon, at her weblog, Witness LA, has been chronicling the fire all week from her home base of Topanga. Do check her out at: WLA.

Today she offers a lesson in air support. You probably heard Supervisor Spitzer complain about a lack of air support -- and I agreed with him. (Note how silent he was yesterday on the topic when Arnold was in town and visiting down the road at El Toro High School.) Could OC have used earlier air support? I think it's a no-brainer, but Fremon points out that not all help comes from the outside. Each county maintains their own fire-fighting air fleet.

Fremon writes, "For the record, LA County's fleet consists of three Sikorsky Firehawks, four Bell 412 helicopters and another Bell Jet ranger. This fire season, in addition to the copters it had in its own hanger, LA County Fire Department had access to a couple Erickson Sky Cranes, a Super Scooper or two (leased from Quebec) and some other fixed-wing planes that swoop and drop fire retardant."

What do we have in OC? Fremon called the Orange County's fire authority and asked. The answer: "Angela, a very cheerful and sleep-deprived OCFA spokesperson told [Fremon], 'Two helicopters.' To make sure [she] hadn't heard wrong, [Fremon] asked again. Two, [the spokesperson] repeated, and they definitely aren't Firehawks. 'I wish,' she said."

Seems like Supervisior Spitzer--and all of us--need to think about why this is so.

Okay, enough for the morning report. I need to see a doctor today for this cough. Red has gone to the university. Our son's school remains closed. I miss my colleagues, my students, my friends, my family.

Good Night: the fire is out there

AFTER THE LAGUNA FIRE, some 14 years ago, when we were almost burned out of our trailer home, I had trouble sleeping. I was haunted by the irrational fear that the fire would somehow "come back." Some of that lingers. I should be sleeping but I can't. The fire is out there. Even if it's not burning my house, it is burning someone else's.

Intrepid local reporter MJF chides us for not seeking out the wonderful coverage the Orange County Register has been providing online. In truth, I have sought it out --and then measured it against the OCFA reports and other sources to see what I could see. I am wary. Skeptical.

But I didn't know they had MAPS! Online, updated, footnoted. They do. Tonight I found my neighborhood, my street, my house. According to the OC Register, I still have one.

An update—and some "Santiago fire" evac pics

Just heard from a friend, via cell phone, who has managed to remain in the Trabuco Canyon area (his home is near Hamilton Truck Trail), despite yesterday's mandatory evacuation.

Bruce happily reports that, right now, there is little fire activity along Live Oak Canyon Road, which stretches for about three miles from Hamilton Trail (it used to be a stage coach stop) down to Trabuco Creek.

The only substantial fire, he says, seems to be well above Joplin's Boy's Ranch (which is near Trabuco Canyon proper). (The jail's inhabitants were transferred to other county facilities yesterday or Monday.)

He says that there continues to be substantial smoke coming from Modjeska/Silverado, for what that's worth. They are somewhat distant.

1st photo: THE PLUME: looking back at our part of the canyon from the switchbacks immediately above Trabuco Creek, about 4:00 p.m., yesterday. I took the shot from my car as we evacuated.

The fire shown here was probably just above Hamilton Truck Trail (which is a mile and a half beyond Cook's Corner as one travels toward Trabuco Canyon).

I took this photo a few minutes before we evacuated. The smoke roiled alarmingly.

It was taken from my place, looking toward the general direction of Modjeska Canyon, which is miles away.

Looking in the direction of Modjeska Canyon from Harris Grade not far beyond Cook's Corner.

This was one of two or three aircraft I spotted mid-afternoon yesterday.

It was flying at a low altitude above Live Oak Canyon. Reminds me of the old B-26.

Looking down from the top of Harris Grade (near the entrance of Hamilton Trail) toward Cook's Corner, more or less. (I had to desaturate the pic to reveal the smoke.)

Someone lost and wandering in front of Cook's Corner (Santiago Canyon Road & Live Oak Canyon Road), about 2:00 p.m. Or not.

A firefighter at Cook's.

Good job, guys!

Still Red, But Not On Fire (Red Emma; fire report)

THE AUTOMATIC attribution will read: "by Rebel Girl" but it is really Red Emma at the keyboard, filing his report himself courtesy of Reb's account.

Hi, Dissenters. (Not Dissentery, cuz that's about lower GI problems!) See, Red can joke a bit, eager to embrace a little bad taste, joyfulness, some exhilaration. It's early afternoon and, bathed in the air-conditioned high-tech comforts of lakeside living courtesy the Bone Doctor and his Novia, Red reports the following.

First, Chunk's canyon seems to be okay. I actually sort of did a naughty, and drove past the momentarily abandoned Sheriff's checkpoint, all the way to the top of Live Oak Canyon Road, where actual real hot flames were burning right to the asphalt and about 20 engines and crews were stationed. This is perhaps a quarter mile from I think it's called Hamilton Trail junction. It looked really, really bad and like maybe they were gonna cut and run. I skeedadled back to the biker bar where neighbors were eating peanuts with the Brave Firefighters and we watched the big, big black smoke behind us (up and east from Santiago Canyon Estates) being ominous in between when it was turning white after water and retardant dumpage by monster planes. Nice. (Mom, can I have one of those for Christmas?) Again, sort of amazingly, I was able to drive up there again on my way back to our comfy domestic command center in Lake Forest and see that somehow they'd stopped the flames, so I think Lambrose and points south of highway are okay.


Meanwhile, waiting around in vicinity of Cook's Corner didn't seem to make sense (I was being ignored by buxom biker babes, go figure), and since I wasn't getting too many papers graded either (my great colleagues proctored an in-class exam and I picked up Blue Books early from UCI) I drove back here to my Lovely Wife and Son to confirm the following. All reports --- from Sheriffs, neighbors, a cool OC Reg reporter named Eugene, County Animal Control dude, more neighbors --- all actual eyewitnesses, confirm unburnedness of Olive Hill and all neighborhoods in Mo Canyon, with obvious exception of a few structures just below southern canyon wall in interior and, of course, the 10 or so which are in the triangle of fire formed by Santiago Canyon, Modjeska Canyon Road and the notorious Modjeska Grade Road. There, indeed, the iconic if nutty plywood Dome Home (with llamas) is gone, as are a few homes just east of the grade and, yes, over into acreage under Concourse Park, Limestone Canyon area. Don't know now whether we will get back in tonight, and wonder what we'd do there anyway (after the joy of seeing our place) absent power, telephone, the rest.

So, for now, with winds down, we are cool. Thanks to all for kindness and concern. I'll spare you my analysis, but the Idiot President is in town tomorrow and thoughtful folks might boo in his direction. The crime and foolishness of endless "resources" spent killing people in foreign lands mean, really, right now, fewer planes and National Guard and planes dropping lovely, wonderful chemicals. Peace out.

(Photo by Chunk)

Andrew Tonkovich