Leisurely Hike Turns Into Evacuation

Posted by jesikah maria ross

June 25, 2007

Yesterday I got about as close to a major forest fire that I'd ever want and experienced what it is like to be evacuated.

My husband Thom and I were hiking in the Desolation Wilderness, taking off from the trail head at the south end of Fallen Leaf Lake after a big brunch. We were up visiting our friend Amy whose family has a cabin on the lake. I had wanted to see Fallen Leaf Lake and experience Desolation Wilderness quite some time. While the Tahoe area is only about 2 hours from where I live, I just don't seem to get there.

So I was giddy with the idea of a day spendt outdoors, walking lake to lake, being out in the beautiful Sierra and having some downtime. About 2 hours into the hike, round about Grassy Lake, I turned to look back to view from where we'd come from. That's when I first saw it: a small plume, orange-grey-white, lifting out from around Angora Peak. I didn't like the look of it from the get-go. I couldn't image what it might be other than fire, but I stayed optimistic.

Maybe 5 minutes later, I turned around again from a better vantage point to see if, just in case, the smoke was still there. Now there was no denying it--big blackish orange clouds were wafting upward. It still wasn't too big, but the wind was gusting that day. I wasn't familiar with the terrain but I am familiar with the dynamics of fire in canyons, especially on windy days. I knew we had to retreat and take anyone we saw with us.

Turns out, everyone else who saw the smoke had the same idea, and soon we were a convey of hikers streaming down from different parts of the wilderness, converging on Fallen Leaf Lake. As we hiked at a fast clip back, we could see the fire really starting to rage, filling the sky with mushroom cloud-like bursts of black smoke and then becoming orange grey as it floated toward Reno.

The first ranger we came across let us know where the fire was and that it was bad. He said we should get to our cars and head out before the roads closed. Everyone (there were about 20 different folks by that point on our trail) stayed calm, asked each other if anyone needed water, food, or directions, and headed as fast as they could to the parking area at the trailhead.

We went to get our friend Amy, who was in the cabin and unaware of the fire. We then headed to the local store to check on area updates when we discovered that the roads out were now closed. The fire fighters informed us of our "zone of safety" (e.g. the lake) and prepped us for what to do if the fire came over the ridge and toward us. All the folks that we'd seen at the parking area and on the trail were stuck with us and others who had cabins. Fortunately, the store was still open so people could get supplies and have a place to sit and swap yarns. Everyone remained in good spirits, offering up ideas, support, and housing if needed.

Remaining upbeat began to be a bit of a challenge as we could see the fire going up the ridge and we all knew that the Fallen Leaf area, like much of the Sierra, was a tinder box with a far too robust a fuel load. We joked about what we'd take into kayaks from the cabins or cars, what provisions we'd want, what we should wear. At at that point, we had heard that at least 50 structures on the other side of the hill had burned and that the weather predictions didn't sound good. We could see the planes dumping vast quantities of red stuff on the fires and we could hear helicopters close by.

Next thing we know, amplified voices in measured, even tones are notifying us to evacuate down a road they opened up that headed towards Hwy 89/Truckee. People jumped into their cars with a mixture of glee and speed and headed out in a heartbeat. Those of us from cabins had to get back to the homes, pack up, shut down, and split. It's amazing how fast you can do that when needed! It was also surprising how focused you can stay when faced with this kind of challenge.

Thom, Amy, and i convoyed with others out of the area, stopping to inform folks as we came across them of the situation. We saw the fire fighters knocking on doors to get everyone out. We talked to them at various road blocks as well. Throughout it all, the firefighters were helpful, friendly, and poised. Gave me a real appreciation for them.

And I appreciated them even more as we emerged out of the Fallen Leaf Lake area and got high enough on Hwy 89 to view the full extent of the fire. It was ominous. I could the fire everywhere, racing up trees and licking the sky. The smoke billowed. And every so often fire engines from nearby municipalities drove by us. More planes dropped red stuff to stall the fire; more copters circled around. I could barely imagine what the firefighters could do to tame the blaze with the wind conditions in that terrain.

I stood for a long time at a vantage point overlooking Emerald Bay looking out at the destruction. I know fire is a natural and needed phenomenon. And I understand that we have huge fuel build up issues from previous fire suppression policies. I've heard the debates on fire policy. But staring at that fire all I could do was grieve for the loss of people's homes, pets, and memories and for any damage done to the habitat.

Getting back into the car to head home via Truckee, I thought about how everyone treated each other with respect and how there was a palpable sense of solidarity and community spirit on the trail, at the parking area, around the store, and at the various road blocks, where lots of us got out cars to check in with one another. While the darkening sky and what it meant for people with homes in the area tugged at my heart, I felt some relief being reminded of the goodness of people when they come together to confront a crisis.