I'm sure now that he will be here for a good deal longer than July 9th for the localized plume developed into a raging fire that will forever be known in Colorado Springs history as the Waldo Canyon Fire. At first people to the south of the fire in Manitou Springs were evacuated on Saturday as the fire burned south. Sunday those people were allowed to go home. Special firefighters came from all over the United States and Canada to help battle the fire which had quickly grown into a several thousand acre monster.
On Monday the battle against the fire raged and it seemed it might be contained with the help of the special force of firefighters. 5% containment was obtained and, although that isn't a big number, it encouraged everyone.
Tuesday afternoon the temperature reached 101 degrees, an all time record for Colorado Springs, and the winds shifted to the northeast. The fire became a monster that was headed, fast, directly towards homes and neighborhoods in the northwest part of town. Thousands of people were mandatorily evacuated and traffic became a nightmare as people tried to gather the few bits and pieces that meant the most to them and evacuate. The monster kept coming. The photos and video seen on social media and television were an exact replication of what I've always imagined hell to look like with black, yellow smoke, ashes falling, and a horribly eerie red and yellow fire monster bearing down on a suddenly fragile and vulnerable place.
Photo by Dean J Radice via Facebook
My Facebook page lit up with news of friends being evacuated and horror stories of what was left behind. Fear and panic were the predominant emotions expressed and I felt them all within my gut and heart. Alan and I were glued to the continuous live coverage of the fire on KKTV, as well as Facebook, Twitter, and email. We were all the while that our friends and everyone else would be safe. We learned that our office building, Bold Technologies, was in the evacuation zone and in the path of the fire. (The building is fine, but still in the evacuation zone at this time.)
I think when it all become truly real and devastating was when the newscasters reported that the Flying W Ranch, a Colorado Springs institution since the 50's, had burned to the ground. The newscasters were suddenly overcome by grief and exhaustion and openly wept on air. The quick, total destruction of the Flying W was devastating because so many of us here in the Springs had been there, but what I think we were really weeping over was the fact that it stood on the edge of the neighborhoods being evacuated. The monster was growing and there seemed to be no way to stop it. I had the feeling I had as a child in Lubbock on the night of the huge tornado in 1970. Something devastating was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't in the direct path. I wasn't in direct danger, but still a feeling of helpless terror washed over me.
Yesterday morning we awoke to skies heavily darkened by smoke and ash that smelt of something innocent--campfires or perhaps cookouts. The air wasn't innocent. It caused my throat, eyes, and lungs to burn and sting. If I stayed outside longer than five minutes, my stomach began hurting and my breathing became shallow. As I stared into the smoky haze, I felt shell shocked, numb, and unable to grasp the horror of the night before. Alan suggested we get out of town to an area where the air was clear. There was nothing we could do by staying at home. We had offered our home to evacuees. We were praying without ceasing. We packed up Buddy and headed southwest. I felt terribly guilty about leaving, but relieved to escape the smoke and helplessness bearing down on me because there was nothing I could do to help anyone.
Between 200-300 homes were destroyed Tuesday night. Thousands are still evacuated and will remain so until they're sure they have all embers out in the neighborhoods gutted by flames. It is unknown if any people have been killed. Pictures abound of the destroyed neighborhoods. They remind me of pictures of London after the German bombings in World War II.
Photo by James Matthews via Facebook
This morning my shocked numbness wore off. I am bowed by grief for all those people who have lost everything. I've imagined the shock, the worry, and the anguish of those who have lost their homes and all the memories built into them. Where do they go from here? The Waldo Canyon Fire isn't over. It is still an active, living monster intent on devouring whatever lies in its path and is fed by winds and whatever fuel it finds along the way. Firefighters and military are trying hard to block all paths the fire might take. Bulldozers, earth movers, and airplanes dropping water and fire retardants are all tools in the arsenal to block the fire and put it out.
I realize this morning that although I feel helpless and ineffectual, I am not. I can pray. I can reach out to those who might need help. I can lean on my God and know He will help us all through this. All we have to do is ask.
