The wildfires which had not yet even begun to rage began with my usual train ride home. Our conductor made an announcement that there would be no delays due to the fires. Later, about halfway home, another announcement was made that we could be delayed at Chatsworth Station (one stop before my Simi Valley Station) due to fire activities in Simi Valley. Ten minutes later, another announcement was made that we would soon be underway, but operating rules required that the train speed would be restricted to 10mph.
What followed over the next 20 minutes or so was an eerie tour through the rugged and rocky hills that separate the West San Fernando Valley from Simi Valley. We could clearly see places where the fire had burned, and in some places, was still burning -- sometimes only a few feet from our slow-moving train.
We finally made it to Simi Valley Station, and I drove straight home from there. About 5 blocks from my home, I was stopped by the CHP and informed that I could not drive my car beyond that point, but walking was permitted. After parking my car a few blocks away, I walked home. I saw isolated fires all around, but none appeared out of control or seriously threatening. Around midnight, the Santa Ana winds picked up a little, and our fire began to spread, fed in part by the huge fires raging just over the mountains in Chatsworth.
I had thought about going to bed, but I could not imagine sleeping with the threat of fire so close at hand. At around 10:30 PM, I walked over to a steep road, about a five minute walk away, which allows for larger-scale view than what I can see from my house. I met some neighbors there, and we watched a fire burning up a ridge to the east, less than a mile from where we were standing. It was growing stronger with each advance as it gorged itself on fresh fuel. When the fire got to a draw low on the ridge, it lingered and we saw several trees flare up. The fire would approach the base of each tree, pause, and within moments the tree would be engulfed. Even from almost a mile away, we could each tree sizzle and pop... 30 seconds later, each tree was transformed into a non-burnable skeleton, and the fire, a little fatter now, moved on to the next arboreal victim. The fire grew. We heard several trees exploding. The sound is like cannon fire. We saw the power of fire, right then and there. We watched about an hour longer, then I went home and began to make a mental list of belongings to bring down to my car. Sadly, I realized I was already preparing to run away from this fire, and my home, if necessary.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I tried, but every time I closed my eyes I saw an undulating landscape, with alternating patches of flame and smoke. I kept getting up and walking to my vantage point to evaluate the threat. Restlessy, I continued to do this, until at about 4:30, I finally fell asleep.
As I lay sleeping, fire conditions had slowly worsened. At around 9:30, I was awakened by a CHP announcement from a passing patrol car, advising all residents to evacuate. As was usually my custom, I questioned authority. I returned to my little vantage point, and saw no real change in threat. The same gentle Santa Ana winds were blowing, and most of the fire, as near as I could tell, was under control. The only difference I could detect was that with the passage of time, more firefighters and strike teams had managed to arrive in our neighborhood. And what had begun as a relatively cool morning (around 68 F) had now become quite warm. I was becoming thirsty, so I decided to head home and fix a big mug of ice water. I glanced at the thermometer by the front door, and noticed that it was now hovering around 90 degrees. I went inside and fixed myself something to eat. Even though I had not eaten anything since a light snack the night before, I found that I didn't really have much of an appetite.
I decided to check for some news of our situation on the internet. The twin sisters, hurricanes Katrina and Rita, were still on center stage, with the looming John Roberts nomination for Supreme Court Justice, and the ongoing obscenities in Iraq taking right and left stage (or would that be right and right stage). The Simi Valley fire was not yet on the radar screen of America.
I walked back up to my vantage point again, and saw that what had been a smoky fire burning just on the other side of a minor canyon ridge continued to burn and smoke. More fire personnel were arriving all the time. While I was standing there, mesmerized by the fire-and-smoke scene before me, five CDF fire trucks came grinding up the grade in their elderly, fire-red painted, all-wheel-drive pumper trucks.
One of the trucks parked near to where I was standing, on my steep vantage point. Each driver somehow knew where their respective fire hydrants were located. There were five trucks, and three hydrants that I could see. The three trucks backed into residential driveways, and took every step to hookup to their hydrants except for the final hose attachment. The other two trucks drove further up the road, to find their water supplies I suppose.
These trucks, as I would later learn from the Engine Strike Team Leader, were preparing to defend the homes down in the canyon, should the conditions on the smoldering minor canyon change (they later did). The Team Leader dispatched his crew to make a "scratch", or firebreak trail from the roadside down into the canyon below. This would serve, I learned, as both a fire personnel supply route, as well as an emergency evacuation route in case the fire grew out of control.
I continued to learn many more interesting things about firefighting from the Team Leader, "Hoss". As the persistent fire continued to burn and smoke, the full complement of fire defense crew had been working themselves into their strategic positions. They wasted no time in making several fire breaks, also called "containment lines". After the initial construction of these lines, and with the burning, smoking fire gradually gaining strength but still not posing any immediate threat, the crews continued to clean and widen the lines. Counting on the continued direction of the mild Santa Ana winds, the various Strike Team Leaders were collectively formulating their plans to kill the fire.
Hoss and I both reasoned that as long as the Santa Ana winds kept calm, the Simi Valley fires could possibly be contained before nightfall. After all, it was the southwest direction of the winds, combined with the east-west direction of the major ridge that had so far prevented any significant threat to Simi Valley residents: both wind and ridge collaborated to blow the fires away from us. One of the problems with fire control in areas like this is that the hillsides are too steep and rugged for fire trucks, and in many cases, for humans. Under these circumstances, fires must be fought, or at least contained, without the availability of water.
Taking into account the wind direction, fire conditions, and available resources, Hoss explained his three-pronged strategy to kill the fire: anticipate the direction in which the fire will head, construct one or more containment lines well in advance of the fire's arrival, and when the fire reaches the lines and runs out of fuel, kill it. And that's exactly what they did. Then they waited patiently for the fire to come to them.
But, said Hoss, there was one worrisome thing. The Santa Anas, created by a high pressure system over the southwest desert, are by their very nature a strong wind. When the Santa Anas come to town, they chase away the cooler, and generally much weaker coastal on-shore breeze. True, he affirmed, nobody wants to be around a wildfire in 50 mph Santa Ana winds, but there is some doubt that a 5 to 10 mph will stay the course. And staying the course is of major importance when it comes to wind direction and fire fighting.
Hoss went on to explain how to tell when the Santa Ana winds are on their way out. Initially coming in from the Pacific, the coastal on-shore breezes will ride up and over on the back of a westbound Santa Ana wind. I would have thought otherwise, knowing that hot air rises above cooler air, but apparently in this case, it doesn't work the way I'd expect. worse case scenario, santa anas dried everything, on-shore reversl burned the rest This all changed in the early afternoon as the Santa Ana winds fizzled out, and a strong on-shore wind blew in causing a 180-degree reversal of wind direction. That meant that the firefighting strategies had to also change 180 degrees. The result was a huge and out of control fire one canyon away, and about 1/4 mile from my house. At that point, my two sons and I evacuated ourselves to our two cars, parked in relative safety about 5 minutes away. Within minutes, dozens of fire trucks appeared from distant counties, and several air tankers (the "water droppers") made their appearance. It was an ominous spectacle.
As a concerned and curious observer now at a safe distance (among a hundred or so other observers), I would say that from that point on, we went from an almost hopeless situation, with fast-moving flames approaching homes in my immediate neihborhood (I overheard a woman cry, "That's my house .. the fire is heading right for my house .. can't they do something?), to a scene in which almost all the homes were obscured by thick whitish smoke in about an hour. The thick whitish smoke was the result of the numerous air tanker water drops. In another hour, it was all about 85% contained.