We got home from Los Angeles this evening (noting all the way how ironic it was that we actually went into LA for improved air quality today) to discover that the fire has spread. In fact, according to the latest map from the Forest Service (which I superimposed on a Google map to show the surrounding towns), the fire has basically doubled in the WSW direction.
If it does that again, it will reach Ojai. So, we are packing up some clothes and important documents and getting ready to head South to my parents’ place if necessary. We plan to be able to get out of here with a suitcase and the cat carrier in a matter of minutes if we get that knock on the door. I will also be checking the RSS feed put out by the Forest Service for breaking news and updates.
It certainly brings life into sharp focus to enumerate our most important possessions in this way, to realize that if necessary our life could go on without anything else. Hopefully between the barricades and now over 2,000 fire personnel on the scene, none of that will be necessary. Meanwhile, please pray for rain (for the highest good). We should know a lot more in the morning.
I woke up late this morning to red dawn light pouring in our windows. It has continued all morning, casting an incandescent orange glow over everything. Our porch and driveway are finely dusted with ash. The cat has been on edge–the warning signs of an oncoming fire are deeply primal. We’re heading toward Ventura shortly, possibly down to LA (to catch the last of the West Hollywood Book Fair or maybe visit The Getty)–anywhere to escape the pervasive smell.
Apparently a fire that was lit on Labor Day has been smoldering along and was fanned into action by Santa Ana winds yesterday. 1,600 firefighters have been dispatched. They’re trying to contain a 48-square-mile wilderness blaze in some of our favorite hiking country, the Sespe. Fortunately, the winds have died right down today. Campsites just a few miles North of us have been evacuated. We may be next.
It is strangely beautiful and haunting–the orange cast on everything, the message of ash carried many miles to our doorstep. Hopefully they will get things under control before it reaches the Condor Sanctuary or gets too close to any homes. We’re dropping off a spare key with my parents just before we leave town, so they can gather up the cat and laptops if our neighborhood gets word to evacuate.
