I'm finally finding some time to sit down (albeit when I should be working) and blog about traveling down to San Diego and visiting Ramona since the Witch Creek Fire. It was a whirlwind trip - only four days and I didn't get to volunteer as I would have liked. The Del Mar Fairgrounds (where they still had over 2,000 horses and other large animal evacuees one week after the start of the fire) didn't need me the time I had available, and I was only there for a few short days.

Driving around Ramona was strange. So much seemed normal, and yet not normal at all. Traffic was heavy, I'm not exactly sure why. Possibly it was people traveling up to look at the fire damage? Or Evacuees coming back into town after being gone for almost a week? Porta-poties were everywhere due to lack of water, and then unsafe water, after the Ramona Municipal Water District pumping station went down. Many of the restaurants were shut down for the same reason, so one had to go "down the hill" for food or head over to my parent's church Mountain View Community for a donated meal.

While I'm not in agreement with the church on a lot of issues, they did a lot for Ramona over the week of the fire. There were firemen and women from all over the place fighting various fires that desperately needed food and shelter, which were provided. National guardsmen and women were also offered a place to eat and sleep. They told us they were sleeping in parks and on the ground and had MREs or no food before they were told to go to the church and were given cots and a real meal.

The church also provided people that had lost their homes with immediate assistance - clothing, toiletries, dog and cat food, diapers, and then to directed one to the appropriate relief agency, even give you a ride if you needed one. And if you were a church member and lost anything, my Dad's job was to locate and interview you to see what resources you had available, and what you may need in terms of shelter or monetary funds, both immediate and in the long term. That's awesome.

In driving down Magnolia Avenue, which becomes Black Canyon Road, it was shocking to see houses missing that have been there as long as I can remember. Houses that are so much part of the landscape, that fit in so well with everything around them, you almost don't realize they're missing. Then you see the black scar where they once stood. It's amazing how small the footprint of a house is. Houses seem so large when you're living in them, and so tiny when they're nothing but ashes and soot, sometimes without even walls left to mark where rooms divided a place. Friends lost homes. People I know lost homes. Leonard. Mike and Traci. Dallas and Rich. Dallas' Dad. Rhetta and Ron. Ken and Linda. Amy.

The fire burned right up and all around my parent's house. Embers melted their fence. The hay in the barn caught fire and burned half the barn bad enough that it will have to be completely torn down and rebuilt (oh darn!). The firebreak my Dad mows likely saved the house - that and the crazy neighbor who stayed while the fire raged. He was the one who put out the fire in the barn with dirt when the water lines melted (THANKS MIKE!). I've evacuated before and it was heady and terrifying, but not nearly as bad as being stuck in Washington waiting for news of my family as they evacuated without me.

Pictures are up at Flickr.

A few samples:

Posted by: Ensie at 05:34 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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