'Is this really happening'?: Your wildfire stories

'The sky is falling'

“Is this really happening?” Surreal would be the best way to describe my situation. I can see the flames and experience the weather, but am one of the lucky Southern Californians whose house isn’t in grave danger. Nonetheless I think it’s a general consensus that everyone’s life has been affected immensely in such a short time. I was just at a BBQ in the currently evacuated Foothill Ranch last Sunday afternoon. Today I have to hold my breath every time I run out to my car. Besides a canceled midterm, life is inching on day by day. However, as I drive down the 405 freeway, the Orange County landscape is alight with the glowing blaze. My house, a few miles from the fires, is encompassed by smoke and ash; it literally looks like “the sky is falling.” While sitting in class it takes a bit longer, but my mind is eventually focused on the subject. Then I step outside back to the grim reality that is Southern California. The Orange County bubble has burst and has turned what was once considered, by some, one of the most desirable places to live is now matted by a morbid grey ash. Reading through the news I have seen comparisons to other disasters such as Hurricane Katrina or 9/11. Witnessing these events on TV, it was impossible to grasp what people were going through. Even now this eerie feeling that accompanies me everywhere leaves a surreal picture in my mind. I can see the disasters firsthand, but know there are millions in much worse situations than my own. I can’t even imagine what San Diego is going through, my thoughts and prayers are with you and everyone in the Southland. -Emily Luiz Student, UC Irvine --Emily Luiz, Lake Forest, CA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

Firestorm 2007

Sunday night I was at work at the Otay Ranch Towne Center in Chula Vista, when a customer came in saying that she and her family had just come back from the desert through Jamul and saw fire. She said that the authorities were going to close the 8 freeway. I thought to myself no big deal, as a native San Diegan I've seen this before: just a little brush fire. But an hour later the power went out and I knew that we had a problem. I looked at my boss and said Firestorm 2007. We were safe and unworried all that night and slept soundly. In 2003 Chula Vista was barely touched, so we felt that we had nothing to worry about. But when I awoke Monday morning I saw the smoke and the raining ash and began to feel uneasy. By Monday night Chula Vista was under alert. At 3:00 a.m. Tuesday morning my dad and I, feeling that the news was inaccurate about the exact distance that had burned on San Miquel Mountain, decided to drive up there to see for ourselves. We were astonished to see the flames at the base of rolling hills, moving fast, and no fire trucks to be seen anywhere. The fire was about 300 yards off from homes in the area. In that instant we went home and packed a bag. San Miguel mountain is about four miles from my house. We realized we had to be ready to leave at anytime. --Anonymous , Chula Vista, CA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

'Being 1,200 miles away is so torturous'

I grew up in San Diego but live in Seattle now. It's been 13 years since I left home, yet I can still smell the sagebrush when it burns through the hills. There is no smell more instantly recognizable to those who know it. Few people up here have any idea what a Santa Ana wind can do with a fire. I try to explain, telling them about the gale-force hot wind, how it picks up embers and deposits them on homes that are miles away from the leading edge of the fire ... yet I can tell they don't truly understand. My heart breaks for those who lost homes; those who don't know; those displaced and waiting to return; and those who have such an immense job of cleaning up what is left behind. My family is down there; I worry about them constantly. I hope that the few phone calls mean they are alright but my mind envisions all sorts of disasters that prevent them from calling. I want to call them every day, sometimes three or four times, but have to restrain myself to not keep them from what they must do to get through this time. I content myself with telling them I love them many times before I hang up, in the horrifying case that it's the last time I talk to them. Being 1,200 miles away is so torturous, wanting so much to be with them, or better yet, have them here safe with me. The last few days have been spent searching for the latest updates online, because TV news up here doesn't give nearly enough detail. Frustratingly, even the Web sometimes fails my desperate thirst for knowledge of my family's homes and their status. I worry about my parents' health, both compromised from illness, and know that the stress of the last few days could be just as damaging as anything they inhale. I hope for the best, send my thoughts winging to those who are in much more dire situations than mine, and close my eyes and think of my family, and how much I love them. --Anonymous , WA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

'I've never heard my father cry, until today'

I woke up Monday morning earlier than usual and irritated that my mother was calling at this hour. "Your Dad is here, they've been evacuated ... We're all getting ready to leave now." The next thing she tells me is that I need to check on my friends and their families and make sure everyone is safe. I call my friends who, like me, are away at school. The same friends who sat with me in 2003 and contemplated how we could leave knowing our homes could be next. Some were already watching online, some were asleep, not knowing their family was in danger. It happened that fast. I'm more than 600 miles away and life goes on around me unchanged. I anxiously wait to hear from friends and family and try to focus on my meeting at work. When my phone rings, I already know. "We think it's gone" is all he says. I've never heard my father cry, until today. I cling desperately to my 3x3 screen of local live feed news online and pray for everyone I know. People begin calling me, fellow students, out of towners... they ask if I know about their homes, we talk about the city we grew up in. Rancho Bernardo will never be the same. So many homes and memories are lost. As Monday progressed, it felt like everyone I'd ever known had fled from their homes. The limited information I had made it seem as though the place I grew up was one black mark on the map. I was relieved all were safe, and the reality of losing everything crept in. By Monday night we knew our home had, miraculously, survived. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought of all the poor people who have to now start over. It's not like Katrina. It's not like Iraq. It's not like anything. We moved a massive amount of people with little loss of life. Many people are displaced, but have food, shelter and water. Many people won't know that much comfort in the months ahead. Many people will never replace what they lost. I feel for those living through this in San Diego, I feel for Katrina victims, I feel for any person of any descent who has thought little of their possessions and rather thought of their safety only to find out they may not have either. I cannot say enough Thank You's to the brave men and women of the fire department. I pray no one else is injured and that there is relief from this mess soon. You are heroes. --Rachel Nicole, San Diego (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

'A hideous beauty'

Moreno Valley, usually a sleepy bedroom suburb in Riverside County, Calif., is now an island in a sea of smoke and flame. To the north, the fires in the San Bernardino Mountains spew their vapors, the ceaseless winds flattening the mushroom clouds against the slopes. To the south, the holocaust of San Diego County darkens the near horizon. The ring of flame tightens hourly. Sunsets, because of the encircling inferno, have a hideous beauty, first blood-red, then fading into a gasp of pink before night falls. The air stinks of smoke and soot, and the eyes redden and tear from the raining ash. Playgrounds and parks are eerily silent, the children all kept indoors, to avoid breathing too deeply the leaden air. No one is unaffected; although the city has so far been spared any part of the destruction, it seems everyone has a story to tell: of a relative or friend living scarce miles away, who has been evacuated, had a home threatened -- or who has lost nearly every material possession, swallowed by the ever-hungry flames. A half-million souls are turned out of their homes, and there is no end to their nightmare in sight. The contrast between the city's uneasy peace, and the havoc and human misery surrounding it, is almost surreal. --Craig Chernos, Moreno Valley, CA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

Fire flashback

1 a.m., Malibu, Sept. 16 1970. I managed to sneak through the fire blockades and walked the mile to where my childhood home once stood. Most of the neighborhood was now embers. When the sun came up, and we had a chance to poke around in the rubble, it was obvious that nothing remained. For the next few years, my parents, brothers and sister tried our best to find a place to call home but it was difficult. Losing a home is like losing a family member. It's been 37 years and we all still feel the loss. It had been the one place where you could always go and be "safe." Federal and state funds helped to get new shelter but it could do nothing to replace the home. Most of what was lost that day could be replaced. My advice to anyone facing a disaster is to gather up all the family photos and take them with you. The evacuation came so suddenly that we had no time to pick up anything. I wish I had some photos from my youth to share with my son. When the Malibu fire hit this week, it roared through the same neighborhood again and finally managed to get our church on Malibu Canyon Road. A church that had managed to survive numerous challenges from nature. --Lawrence Pitman, Newbury Park, CA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

'Pray hard for us, America'

I'm an Orange County resident and these are the worst fires I've ever seen. It seems everyone I come across is affected in some way. Some have lost homes, some have lost all their worldly possessions and have nothing left to their name except the clothes on their backs. Some are in shelters, some are stuffed into still existing homes but suffocating from all the smoke and debris in the air. Personally, the fires are all around me, but I do believe my home will be OK as I am in a big urban area and the fires are more centered in the suburban areas. But I feel like I'm choking to death on smoke, fumes, and ash. It has been this way for days; I have almost forgotten what it feels like to take a deep breath of fresh air. I, too, have been forced to bust out the face mask. My chest feels tight and I've actually vomited from feeling so miserable. I can't seem to get over the pain in my chest after being forced to breathe four days of pitch black "air," even though I've not ventured outside in days. The smoke in the air has a way of filtering inside through cracks in windows, under doors, etc. Media members, can we get some HEALTH experts on your various shows to discuss what is happening to us after breathing all this junk in the air? You simply CAN'T avoid the bad air, so we need tips on how to survive in this kind of environment and how to know when we need to seek professional help. I can't help but feeling that the rest of the country doesn't quite understand what we are going through over here. I think they just think it's the yearly California fires. Folks, I am here to tell you, this is not normal. This is really, really, really bad. I think this disaster is on par with Katrina, perhaps the damage and number of people affected will be even worse than Katrina. There are now ONE MILLION people stuffed in shelters (yes, they are using stadiums here, too), quite a few deaths, a loss of almost 2000 homes, and there are still 68,000 homes in the path of these monsters with the firefighters reporting that the fires are "unstoppable." Pray hard for us, America. And send us some firefighters on loan. We need it. Badly!! --Valerie Lennert, Orange County, CA (submitted on Oct. 24, 2007)

'Oh my God! It's Armageddon'

I work evenings till 1 AM and I usually sleep till around 3 PM when I get home. At 1 o'clock on Sunday afternoon I was woken up and the sky was clear. I decided to stay in bed and get a little more sleep. Two hours later I woke up, but not from my alarm at first. My window was open, and I must have smelled the smoke first before I looked at the alarm clock. Not realizing what was in the air, I looked outside and saw the sky torched red with the sun looking like it was going to supernova. I thought, "Oh my God! It's Armageddon!" and almost panicked at the sight! --Thomas Joyner Jr., Moorpark, CA (submitted on Oct. 24, 2007)

No comparison to Katrina

I am sick and tired of hearing how wonderful the refugees from the fires are. Let's take away the electricity, water, communication, transportation, food, sewage, and forget about them and see how they react. This is what happened in New Orleans. These disasters are very different. PLEASE STOP COMPARING THE TWO. The National Guard couldn't get in until several days AFTER the disaster. No food or water. Hot humid heat with no air conditioning. No sewage so toilets backed up. FEMA was of no help at all. The people of New Orleans were forgotten while the people of California are actually getting GIFT BASKETS and the authorities are comparing the two?!? Where is my gift basket? Where was FEMA? Where were the National Guard? In New Orleans we looked out and saw nothing but water with bodies floating. We were trapped and left to fend for ourselves. I think this disaster shows how the wealthy people are treated vs. how the lesser fortunate are treated. --Kristen Sylvest, Folsom, LA (submitted on Oct. 24, 2007)

'Just your average citizens'

I know that the aftermath of Katrina was a bad situation that never should have happened. But should the people of California be blamed for the breakdown of their government officials? Go back and look at some of the news reports. The governor even admitted that she should have reacted sooner. Yes, I will concede to the fact that Katrina in loss of life and the way people were treated is worse than here in California. But what I am tired of hearing is "Oh, it's only the wealthy." NO! Some of those people are just your average citizens. YES! Some had money that I can only dream of, but in the end, rich, middle class, poor, black, white, or brown, it all equals out to this: PEOPLE HELPING PEOPLE. I know what little money I had went to Katrina victims in their time of need. All I have to say is ALL AMERICANS should have some respect for anyone and ANYWHERE out there in this or any other situation. --Cathy Skagerberg, Visalia, CA (submitted on Oct. 25, 2007)

'Last stand'

My husband and I live in Eastlake Vistas, a community in northeast Chula Vista. As the Harris fire threatened over the last few days, we had a last stand as the flames ended up on the Otay Lakes before splitting north and south. We had taken pictures throughout the day watching the flames approach. We were one mile south of the mandatory evac area of Bella Lago in Rolling Hills Ranch. Every few minutes we'd check online to see how far and fast it was coming. All we had to do is look out our back windows. Luckily like in 2003, the Lakes and lack of wind stopped the fire for a direct approach from the west. After heroic efforts made by fire and police crews, and hundreds of helo trips to the front lines, the fires were pushed back and all Chula Vista residents gave a sigh of relief and were able to make it back home. It was surreal, thank god for those heroes for putting their lives in the line of use every day. If not, I know another 40,000 would be living in evacuation shelters tonight. --Dawn Smith, Chula Vista, CA (submitted on Oct. 24, 2007)

Memories of 2003 fires

I am an asthmatic and I've resorted to wearing a mask in order to help me breathe. The last time I had to wear a mask in order to breathe it was back in the fires of 2003. The air is bad and my allergies are acting up. The sky looks like a storm... and I'm fairly far from where the fires are happening... albeit driving distance. However, the air is affecting my eyes... they are red right now. The air is so bad I can't even begin to properly explain nor describe it.The last time I felt like this was in 2003. And I remember back then it felt like a scene from the book in the Bible of Revelations. The sky was red and debris was falling from the sky... kind of like Armagedon... Apocalyptic. This time it's not as bad... but it does remind me back in 2003 when the sky was red... like a movie. Because I have to wear a mask and stay in doors in order to breathe. Like 2003, in 2007 the air is that bad! This is a photo taken accross the street from Mt. San Antonio College in the city of Walnut, California... which is in the Eastern Part of Los Angeles County. The smoke is coming from the Lake Arrowhead Fires which is in San Bernardino County. --April-Liesel Binapri, CA (submitted on Oct. 23, 2007)

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