I may not be able to hear the Grateful Dead’s song ‘Fire on the Mountain’ without thinking about the past few days here in San Diego ever again. I spent the end of December and New Year’s in Los Angeles, the city I grew up in and left back in the ‘80s when I relocated to the East Coast for work. I departed for San Diego the week before the devastating fires ravaged much of the town I grew up in. My children and friends contacted me concerned for my well-being in California. I explained that I was 120 miles away from the fires, and in a safe location in Jamul, just south of San Diego near the Mexican border.
Over the past few weeks the Santa Ana winds led to a constant stream of travel advisories. The lack of rain combined with the high winds set the stage for potential fires, and the daily update board greeting RVers at the campground never moved off the ‘High’ probability of fire. This meant no campfires, which are such a nice part of the night time camping ritual, but were absolutely a real threat to the dry brush that lines the mountains surrounding the campground.
On Thursday afternoon a neighbor knocked on my door to inform me that a 20 acre brush fire was over the nearby mountain. As I stepped out, I could see the billowing, towering smoke on a nearby crest, swirling in a tight circle. A campground worker on a golf cart drove up, telling us that, while we didn’t need to evacuate at that moment, we should be prepared to leave quickly if the fire grew to a dangerous level. I prepared my RV, disconnected the water/power cables and hitched my car to the RV, ready to put the key in the ignition and go at a moment's notice.
I did manage to fall asleep after many checks outside to see the mountain range, where I saw no smoke or distant fire glow. I thought the fire may have passed, that the area was burned-out and the winds were pushing it away to consume the southern dry brush area. We were safe.
At 3 am I awake to my neighbors talking, overhearing plans to evacuate. I quickly changed, went outside and now outlining the top of the mountain could see a distinct reddish/orange glow. A few people had already left, and the sheriff’s patrol car drove slowly by announcing by loudspeaker that we must evacuate and that there was emergency parking available down the mountain range in a movie theater parking lot. I did one last look around my campsite to make sure I hadn’t left anything, started the RV and departed the campground.
The road west was closed, and as I made my way down, the roadblocks were already in place from where I had just driven. I looked back upon the campground, now a mile away, to see the flames and raging smoke clouds raging, very threatening and very real. It is so unbelievable how at the base of the mountain as I stood in my campsite the threat didn’t feel as imminent or life-threatening - only now with perspective could I see and feel how dangerous an out-of-control fire had been just minutes before.
After 5 miles I decided to fill up my RV at a gas station in the event I may have had to leave the area for another place to stay. Once down the hill, I made a right turn into the movie theater parking lot. I took refuge in a sea of fellow RVers who were parked at various angles, zig-zagging across the lot. It was 4 am, in the 40s and I took a blanket and covered myself up to await the sunrise, not really sleeping but just rolling over in my mind what had just occurred and what my next steps should be.
As day broke I learned on social media details about the Border 2 Fire, that it had grown from 200 acres to 1000 acres, was 0% contained and that if you were in the zone of the Jamul/Otay Lakes/Chula Vista area you must evacuate. I thought about how many full-timers up at my campground had to leave behind their unattached 5th wheelers and mobile homes. About my neighbor who had a Class B RV and a Jeep, but would have to leave one of them behind because she didn’t have towing set-up on the RV. And what about all the hundreds of RVs that were stored in several lots around the campground, empty with owners hundreds and thousands of miles away.
I found the Red Cross was on the scene offering water and breakfast bars. The local TV newsperson was interviewing one of their workers and people who had made their way down from the fire on the mountain. I went to have breakfast and met my neighbor from the campground. He worked nights usually, but because of that afternoon warning had called out in the event he needed to evacuate - an absolutely great decision. He had taken pictures and a video of the fire (something I didn’t even consider doing) which he shared with me, and are included in this blog post.
Now that I consider it 24 hours later, it feels that I am very fortunate to have had the time and ability to move out of harm’s way, having my Pleasure-Way RV being compact, simple to load-up and tow my car is truly reassuring. I had been set to move to a new campground and called them up to make sure the fire had not forced them to evacuate. They said it had not, and told me my spot was open and I could check-in 4 hours early if I wanted. I left the evacuation lot and drove to the campground, aptly called ‘Sweetwater’. It felt like another world than the one I had left 12 hours earlier in the middle of the night, and I am quite thankful for that. I kept track of the continuing fire from a safe and secure vantage point. As I write this the Border 2 Fire has grown to over 6,500 acres, is 10% contained and is still Active….
Holy Toadwater, John! You are one well-prepared camper...literally! You would have made a great pilot! And, a great writer, too!! :-) So glad to know you're safe and sound! What an experience! So sad about these fires. I can't even begin to imagine the devastation and heartbreak for so many thousands of people. Keep safe, my friend!!!!