Wildfire raced through the canyon as if its pants were on fire, roaring toward my daughter’s house at the base of the canyon. It gathered trees, debris, and ultimately more than 1,000 acres burned in area. The fire did not sleep. At night, red hot embers glowed against the black sky like a second, terrible daylight.
Numerous firefighters gathered at my daughter’s home and a temporary line of defense to hold the fire back from it and the other houses was built. Day after day, they battled tirelessly, digging a trench across the valley to save homes. Still, the fire taunted them, creeping toward their property.
For our family, Tuesday, July 28, at 3:28 p.m., life changed for us. My son-in-law was working in the barn when he smelled smoke. He looked up, saw the raging fire in the distance, and called 911. Dispatch had already been aware of the blaze at approximately 3 p.m.
At 3:45 p.m., his wife called me. “There’s a fire on the Blanco. I’m coming to get you. Grab a few things. They are evacuating everyone in the Lower Blanco.”
“Grab a few things.” I looked around the house in a panic, praying as I moved from room to room. What was important? Everything felt important, and yet nothing did. I pulled out my pink bag and stuffed a couple of changes of clothes for Sweet Al and me, our important papers in a blue notebook and our medicine. Was there anything else? I couldn’t think of a thing.
Prayer works. I lifted up the name of Jesus, and God answered through a loud roll of thunder, a sharp crack and a heavy sack of hailstones that seemed to tip over and fell on the Blanco. The answer brought resolve to me. The fire obeyed, though it still fought for the last word.
When my daughter came to pick Sweet Al and me up, she arrived with 10 potted plants in the back of her car. Earlier, she had stopped to buy flowers because she couldn’t pass up a great deal at the store. We were all in the middle of something when the fire started. I had been working on my next “Artist’s Lane” article and monthly newsletter, both of which still needed to be finished and critiqued.
I looked at my desk computer and thought, too much work to take. Oh me, next time, it will be the first thing I pack. I left behind everything I do: book files, Facebook, emails. At the time, it didn’t seem that important until later, when I needed it.
I later learned there are five Ps to rescue when you must evacuate in a panic: papers, pictures, pills, pets, and people. I got a few things right. I remember one morning in our writers’ group when our friend, Gary, arrived with an emergency go bag. He dropped the 50-pound bag onto the table and said, “Everyone needs one of these for an emergency.” We half believed him. He was serious. Did we heed his warning? No. But, his words rang in my ears.
As the days passed, we listened closely to the reports. The wind first pushed the fire north, then shifted south and west. We hoped we might go home on Friday. Then Thursday came, and the wind turned again. Everyone’s property was back in danger.
Yet, in the midst of it all, many things came to light. Foremost were the friendships. Before we were even out of our driveway, 40 texts had come from friends offering help, places to stay and anything we might need to our family of six. Friends were all praying. More messages kept appearing on my daughter’s phone. In that moment, I was reminded how blessed we are to live in this town. It’s the people we can’t leave behind.
So many have reached out to help. Restaurants have been generous. Motels and hotels have given rooms for the price of the cleaning, or a third of the cost. Pagosa Springs High School opened its doors for people, serving food, and the Humane Society stepped in to help with the animals. The bakery ladies from the Blanco called a time together for the Blanco residents, to encourage and give their support to each other.
I enjoyed reading Kathleen McFadden’s article in the July 30 issue: “Into the vault: Preserving Pagosa Springs’ past.” She writes that “Pagosa Springs has never been just one story.” In her article, she named many people who were a part of Pagosa. She refers to the first 50 years of stories, and stories from the Blanco Basin.
The Rio Blanco Fire is another story to add to the vault and preserve the history of Pagosa Springs.
Final brushstroke: Almost anything can be replaced, but not the people of Pagosa. A big thank you for everyone who gave of themselves to keep us safe. We will never forget the people who came with their whole hearts to help our family on the Blanco.
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