Awaiting rain

With nary a raindrop in the week’s forecast and wildfires igniting all around California, I spent the weekend glued to Twitter.

By Saturday afternoon, I knew my journalism colleagues and friends would be dispatched to Sonoma County to cover the Kincade Fire. The blaze had grown to 25,000 acres. So I wished them well. Journalism is one of the few professions that sends its workers to danger. People forget that.

It’s a weird thing to race toward a fire. Back in the summer of 2004, as a young reporter, I was sent off to report on a wildfire in Cherokee. I was alone and had no familiarity with that Butte County hamlet. My instructions: go there and come back with a story.

So, with a paper map in hand, I jumped into my white Honda Accord and drove into the smoke of what was dubbed the Oregon Fire. As I got closer, watching flames lick either side of the rural winding backroad, thus began an internal conversation. My body told me it was a bad idea to keep going, but my head said the incident command center ahead would keep me safe.

I eventually came upon a couple of firefighters dousing the hillsides of the little two-way road—the only route in and out of the area. I rolled down the window, explained that I was a reporter, and jokingly—but actually kind of seriously—asked whether I was driving into certain doom.

Their calm assurances that I was going in the right direction pushed me forward a few more miles. Once I made it to my destination, I spent the rest of the day tagging along with fire personnel and residents who hadn’t heeded evacuation orders.

Of course, that 2,000-acre blaze 15 years ago pales in comparison to the Kincade Fire—an inferno that doubled to more than 50,000 acres by Sunday due to high winds. I’ve been keeping tabs on it fairly obsessively.

Compounding my anxiety: the upcoming Camp Fire anniversary and reports of several other conflagrations around the Bay Area and beyond—Lafayette, Livermore (where I grew up) and near the Carquinez Bridge on Interstate 80 in Vallejo. Northward, in eastern Mendocino County, evacuation orders were issued for yet another fire. Closer to home, more than 600 acres in Corning were torched. Then, on Monday, a new scary blaze started in So Cal near the Getty Center.

As of Wednesday morning, the Kincade Fire had grown to more than 75,000 acres. It seems cruel that some of the Sonoma County evacuation areas include portions of the region still recovering from the 2017 Tubbs Fire. One of the reports I read mentioned a woman who’d moved into her newly rebuilt home only two months ago. Another wince-worthy element, especially for those of us in Butte County, are early reports that the Kincade Fire likely was started by PG&E equipment despite blackouts to prevent this very scenario. A transmission line not de-energized is the suspected ignition point.

I can’t help but relive the Camp Fire and hold my breath. That’s precisely what I’ll be doing not only until we get past Nov. 8, but also until we get our first decent downpour. I suspect I’m far from alone. Life during fire season will never be the same.