First, I want to say thanks to EVERYONE who has selflessly offered assistance. The gesture is very much appreciated. And now, the last 24 hours.
On Saturday, when this thing first started to kick off I asked Melanie to pack a few things, just in case. I wanted to keep it simple, but irreplaceable. I toyed with the idea of moving the Bronco down to Fort Carson, but the fire appeared pretty tame on the eastern side. And the great job of containment that was going on around the Cedar Heights neighborhood had me hopeful.
Sunday was pretty boring with no real expansion or surprises in the containment. I spent some time on the roof, keeping tabs on things, and did notice a little peeking over the Rampart Range Road ridge line, but nothing fast moving. Winds seemed to be doing a decent job of keeping things at bay.
By Monday we'd started to grow a bit content. I actually contemplated unpacking some of our things and moving the 4Runner back in to the garage (where all of our stuff was stacked and waiting to be loaded).
Today seemed just like another day. I went back to work, feeling a bit guilty at having taken yesterday off due to the fire. I was back in my office by 4pm and sat down to watch the evening briefing while changing clothes and getting ready to go home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I loaded up for the drive.
Within maybe 10 minutes of my leaving work, I started receiving texts from my very good friend and neighbor Josh. He'd been home all day and keeping tabs on things. Between reading his texts and listening to the local news radio station, I knew something was going badly. News reports turned from quiet concern to near panic. "The fire is in Mountain Shadows", I heard. I thought, "In? Or near? Because I don't remember ANYTHING about Mountain Shadows being in the broadcast." That quickly turned to "The Flying W Ranch is gone." "What?", I thought. There is no way. This has to be a mistake. It can't be moving this fast.
15 minutes in to my drive, I hit a parking lot on I-25. Nothing was moving and there was a thick orange fog on the interstate in front of me. I painfully waited through the traffic, 2 miles, 1 mile from my house. I started texting and then calling Melanie. I told her to go ahead and find us a hotel room. There was simply too much dust and smoke to keep her and Margo at the house. Melanie confirmed this for me when she said the central air was pumping out a little bit of smoke.
By the time I made it home, we were somewhere around 55-65mph winds on the far north west side of town. The Flying W Ranch, which I understand has some sort of historic significance, as well as an estimated 35 homes were GONE.
Without a mandatory, or even preliminary, evacuation order in effect I made the call to get out of dodge. We found a room in Pueblo, packed up our already packed belongings, and hit the road. The traffic getting out of our subdivision was madness. More people trying to get in than get out. The drive down was uneventful and we got all of our stuff moved in to our new home away from home.
Along the way down here, I made and received several phone calls to members of this club. I was scrambling to make up for my stupidity in not following my instincts before. I appreciate each and every one of you offering what you could to help me out.
After we settled in, I got back in the truck and headed back to the house. In communication with my friend Josh, I learned things had calmed down and there appeared to be little to no danger. I experienced no road blocks on my way, and coordinated with JD to get my Bronco out of danger. JD graciously agreed to meet me a safe distance away from my house to pick up my Bronco with his trailer, despite being in Colorado Springs, no doubt with family or his wife, and having to drive back to Falcon to get his trailer and then BACK to COS to meet me.
Because I had some time before JD would get back, I set about packing up more sentiments from within the home. I also packed up every gun and every bullet I have (don't need any firemen getting hit by stray rounds while they try and put flames out). When JD let me know he was close, I hopped in the Bronco, followed by Josh, and headed out of danger. No sooner than we had crossed Centennial Blvd did I get the mandatory evacuation notice on my phone. Playing an audible, I called JD and set up a new spot to meet, closer to the action but still outside of danger. I did a hot drop of the Bronco in an abandoned gas station parking lot (leaving the keys in the driver's seat, after all, who is going to steal a car in the middle of a forest fire?), and headed back to the house to get my Super Duty.
We made it back without running in to road blocks and I had one last chance to run through the house. Now, let me tell you something. When crap is happening 5 miles away, you have all the time in the world. When you don't need binoculars to see and smells the flames and the sound of fire engines is the ONLY thing you hear, there is never enough time.
So, long story short, we're out. The house was standing last I saw it. The Bronco is safely tucked away in Falcon. And I'm sleeping in a bed tonight. I've got a ton of tools, Bronco parts, and 18 years worth of memories of military service that I may or may not ever see again. But it could sure as hell be worse.
I know of at least two more Bronco owners and 32,000 other people who can definitely use your thoughts. Keep them in mind as I will.
**One final thought. Gawkers. Looky Loos. Rubber neckers. Whatever you want to call them. You would not BELIEVE how many of these SOBs were running around the area. Stopping in the middle of the road to take pictures. Walking the streets, pointing and staring. Standing in parking lots taking pictures like tourists. Treating the damn thing like it was a trip to Disney Land.
If you ever find yourself tempted to do the same thing in the future, and based on the caliber of people I have met from here I doubt you would, but JUST IN CASE...think about having 1 hour to get everything out of your house that you want/need and never getting anything else back. Now imagine some idiot is standing in front of you and won't move while that clock ticks.
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