In the midst of a national disaster
Fire. It’s one of those things that captivates us.
Well, I don't know about you, but it captivates me. I’ve always enjoyed staring into the heart of a camp fire, watching the flames as they devour a pyramid of wood. The gentle crackling and snapping, and the glowing orange aura surrounding the site, always evoked a primitive calm inside me; the warmth and light connects me with my distant ancestors, whether they were nestled deep in German forests or settling down for the night on the open prairie land of the Midwest. Even candle flames lure my attention, mesmerizing me with their hypnotic dance.
Fire is great when it behaves, but it’s a bitch when it’s out of control. All I have to do is breathe — take in a lung-full of the fine ash and soot lingering in the air — to be reminded of how dangerous fire can be.
According to the Los Angeles Times website, 420,424 acres of the Southland have burned since Sunday morning, when fires started in Malibu and Agua Dulce. Since then, 1,155 homes have been destroyed and 881,500 people have been evacuated. The fires have burned uncontrollably for four days, but today firefighters have been able to gain the upper hand as the fierce Santa Ana winds died down and moist air from the Pacific begins to flow inland.
I’m in the midst of a national disaster. Firestorms this big have never happened in California. I’ve been a part of nature's wrath before — wind storms and tornadoes — but I’ve never been in a situation affecting such a large region. From Santa Barbara to San Diego, about 20 million people have been affected, some much more than others. At the same time I think it’s both intriguing and scary.
Huntington Beach is relatively safe. I have nothing to worry about unless a giant, urban firestorm swept across Irvine and Costa Mesa (I’d grab my “important financial documents,” my computer, and maybe a few other things before getting the hell out; then I would hope and pray the life I’ve established in California doesn’t go up in smoke). The nearest wildfire is the Santiago Canyon fire in Irvine. It’s not too close to where I live, but it’s almost on top of where I work. Towers of smoke cloud the sky and ash and soot has fallen all over Southern California; every car is covered with a fine layer, sprinkled with larger bits of light and dark debris. Huntington has a light, camp fire smell (as if you’re down wind of one) but walking around UC Irvine is like standing next to a smoking Weber. At times my throat and nose dry up, and I make a half-choked, half-“I can hardly breathe” face, as if I’m standing next to someone smoking a cigarette.
Because the air quality is so bad, everyone has been advised to stay indoors. Schools across the Southland have cancelled outdoor activities, including after school sports, and UCI has cancelled a few festivities. Not good news for an outdoors guy like me. I want to walk and run and play basketball. Regardless of how healthy those activities are during normal conditions, they’re relatively unhealthy right now, which pisses me off. I’ve kept walking, but running is out of the question. And what’s worse is health officials recommend keeping windows shut for the time being. Are you crazy? Keep my window shut?
Well, I don't know about you, but it captivates me. I’ve always enjoyed staring into the heart of a camp fire, watching the flames as they devour a pyramid of wood. The gentle crackling and snapping, and the glowing orange aura surrounding the site, always evoked a primitive calm inside me; the warmth and light connects me with my distant ancestors, whether they were nestled deep in German forests or settling down for the night on the open prairie land of the Midwest. Even candle flames lure my attention, mesmerizing me with their hypnotic dance.
Fire is great when it behaves, but it’s a bitch when it’s out of control. All I have to do is breathe — take in a lung-full of the fine ash and soot lingering in the air — to be reminded of how dangerous fire can be.
According to the Los Angeles Times website, 420,424 acres of the Southland have burned since Sunday morning, when fires started in Malibu and Agua Dulce. Since then, 1,155 homes have been destroyed and 881,500 people have been evacuated. The fires have burned uncontrollably for four days, but today firefighters have been able to gain the upper hand as the fierce Santa Ana winds died down and moist air from the Pacific begins to flow inland.
I’m in the midst of a national disaster. Firestorms this big have never happened in California. I’ve been a part of nature's wrath before — wind storms and tornadoes — but I’ve never been in a situation affecting such a large region. From Santa Barbara to San Diego, about 20 million people have been affected, some much more than others. At the same time I think it’s both intriguing and scary.
Huntington Beach is relatively safe. I have nothing to worry about unless a giant, urban firestorm swept across Irvine and Costa Mesa (I’d grab my “important financial documents,” my computer, and maybe a few other things before getting the hell out; then I would hope and pray the life I’ve established in California doesn’t go up in smoke). The nearest wildfire is the Santiago Canyon fire in Irvine. It’s not too close to where I live, but it’s almost on top of where I work. Towers of smoke cloud the sky and ash and soot has fallen all over Southern California; every car is covered with a fine layer, sprinkled with larger bits of light and dark debris. Huntington has a light, camp fire smell (as if you’re down wind of one) but walking around UC Irvine is like standing next to a smoking Weber. At times my throat and nose dry up, and I make a half-choked, half-“I can hardly breathe” face, as if I’m standing next to someone smoking a cigarette.
Because the air quality is so bad, everyone has been advised to stay indoors. Schools across the Southland have cancelled outdoor activities, including after school sports, and UCI has cancelled a few festivities. Not good news for an outdoors guy like me. I want to walk and run and play basketball. Regardless of how healthy those activities are during normal conditions, they’re relatively unhealthy right now, which pisses me off. I’ve kept walking, but running is out of the question. And what’s worse is health officials recommend keeping windows shut for the time being. Are you crazy? Keep my window shut?
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