The Bluecut Fire is a bad dream. This fire went from zero to over 18,000 acres in twelve hours. Twelve. Hours.
I’m not sure what I’m going to wake up to tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to go to bed tonight.
I’ve posted photos and updates on Facebook throughout the day. Here’s the collection.
The fire started around 10:30 am. I was at working, jamming out to Luke Bryant on the local country station and writing new policies for a client when my boss came into the main area. She was on her cell phone and changed the radio. Now, normally, I have few issues with this. Except, like I said, it was Luke Bryant. So I say, “What are you doing to my radio station?” As if I own Luke Bryant and his country swagger. She says, “(Hubby) is on the phone. Did you know there’s a fire in the Pass?”
So I sigh. Because the Pilot Fire was just contained like, yesterday. After seven days and 9,000+ acres. Some of the policies I wrote today had been waiting for the fire restriction to be lifted for the last week. So this morning I was a happy
camper insurance agent. Notsomuch by this afternoon.
I finish with my client, say ciao, and decide to take a peek out the back door. MoJoGirlSayWhaaaat?! I expected a smoke cloud along the lines of what we had last week. Which I thought was bad. But it retrospect, I’d take that almost any day over what I saw. It was like freaken Armageddon.
And it just keeps growing. Like, crazy growing. Every news update has this thing exponentially growing like a bad science experiment.
So I took a few photos.
And at the end of the day, I head home. Which takes me toward the storm.
Have you ever been inside a disaster movie?
There’s a quality in the air, an electricity that pricks you from the inside of your nerves and travels throughout your body. You hold your breath and hyperventilate all at the same time. It’s a sensory overload, and you look at the traffic around you and everyone else is gawking at the strange orange-red sky.
Now, we get wildfires out here, it’s part of the climate. The drought makes it worse, but we get through. Most smoke clouds are thick, grey, a little dark.
Today’s clouds – clouds – are orange-red. Like the ash clouds themselves are on fire. They’re not reflecting the fire, they are the fire.
And I’m holding my breath and trying not to see the beautiful colors because the devastation is only beginning.
My friends are evacuating. Historic sites are burnt down. The only freeway is closed in both directions. And the wind keeps blowing it closer in my direction.
So tonight, my go-bag is packed. My crate is packed. My food essentials are packed. And the cat crates are out and open.
I don’t think I’ll have to evacuate. I think there are too many buildings between there and here. But that knowledge doesn’t help when red ash is falling.
And I think this is something worth documenting.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!