I used to think it was so cute when people would ask where I was from, I would tell them, “Paradise, and I didn’t even have to die to get there.” When people ask me where I am from now, I tell them I am from “Paradise, and I almost died getting out of there.”
On November 8th, 2018, I woke up early for us.
Jimmy had had a rough night, and it was pointless to try and go back to sleep because Janie was going to wake up anytime. So, I got up. It was 7 am. I got my tablet and sat down since I had a few minutes to myself and looked at Facebook. I knew my friend was coming in the night before from Utah, and I wanted to see if she had made it. She posted a picture of the sunrise and said something about a beautiful morning in Paradise. I noticed that there was a very strange hue of Orange. It was almost grotesque Orange. I got up and looked out the Eastern window, and it was weird. I thought it was strange but didn’t think too much of it. I heard one of the kids, and so I went and got her up. I changed Janes’s diaper and put her down, and we went to the kitchen to get her a little breakfast. I noticed as I opened my blinds that it was even more Orange than before. I decided that I would go out and take a picture. By that time, it was about 7:45. The picture didn’t do it justice.
I continued with my morning. I heard several sirens off in the distance. I would occasionally gaze out the window and notice more of a haze in the air. The wind was blowing hard, and leaves and branches were moving past. I decided that I should probably turn on the TV. It was at this point that I saw the traffic. I turned to the news and heard that fire called the Campfire started in Pulga. Pulga is quite a ways away, so I wasn’t too surprised. I called my Dad and talked with my stepmom Joan; I told her I thought there was a fire. She said she knew. She and my Dad had seen it as they were driving down from Paradise Pines. She said it was in Pulga and going the other way, but they were starting to get some things together. Paradise always gets evacuated. I said I would do the same thing. She asked me if I was going to need them to come and get us. I said that I was borrowing Mikes’s car this past week, and I still had it. We hung up, and I got out our essential papers and binders for the kids.
The baby woke up, and I got him dressed then dressed Janie, and we went out into the living room. I heard that Pentz road was being evacuated, again I wasn’t concerned. Pentz Rd. is evident on the other side of town. I figured that it was down more toward Highway 70, and that was miles from me. I thought I had better put a little more gas in the car. I loaded the kids up, and we headed out. There was a lot of traffic. It was crazy how much traffic. I decided to take the back roads. I got to the gas station but was unable even to get close. I decided that I would go down Skyway and get to my place. Even with traffic, it would be quicker than trying to turn around. I thought maybe I should go ahead and head down to Chico, but as I got to the first of 3 driveways into our complex, I felt that I needed to pull in. I pulled in and parked in my parking space, and got the kids into the house. I turned the tv back on and started to listen to the news again. I heard the news say something about evacuation orders for people in the Butte Creek Canyon area. I thought that had to be wrong because that was on my side of the canyon. The fire was on the other side of town and at least 10 miles away.
I called my Dad and stepmom again. They told me that their neighbor Joel told them to pack and get out of town immediately. I said that I was packing a few more things and that I was going to head out. I loaded a few more things because I knew that we would be coming back. We always get evacuated. I went to the restroom. I heard a knock on the door. I heard my landlord and friend come in calling my name. I got out to the living room, and he said that I should evacuate. I could wait for him if I wanted, and we could all go down in the RV. I told him that I would go down in the car.
As I was loading the last baby in, I ran back into the house. I grabbed the Milk and the formula. I also, for some odd reason, grabbed the Halloween candy. Crazy. Why did I grab the candy? As I loaded it in the front seat, I thought I should probably grab a blanket for each baby and my blanket. If we are going to be staying at a hotel or a member of our church’s house, the babies will need a familiar smell and something from their home. I also grabbed my pillow. As I loaded those into the car, the phone rang. I ran back into the house and answered the phone. It was a supervisor from Social Services. He asked if I needed any help and that I needed to evacuate immediately. That was the first that I had heard about a mandatory evacuation. I told him that I was leaving now. I hung up the phone and turned off all the lights; I amazingly still had electricity and cable and internet. As I headed out, I closed and locked my door. I didn’t want anyone taking my stuff, lol. I left my house at 10 am.
I headed to the car and was being hit by ash. It wasn’t your ordinary ash. They were big, heavy hot chunks. You could hear them hitting the road as well as my car. The sky was getting darker brown, but only on the east side of town. My side was still okay. I still had no idea where the fire was. We got about 200 yards, and I noticed that they had opened the two lanes that go up Skyway so that four lanes were going out of town and one lane for the EMTs to go up the Skyway.
As we were creeping along, the babies were both screaming in the backseat. It was so frustrating going five miles an hour with two screaming babies in the back seat. I was more frustrated about the kids screaming than anything. I still didn’t know how closely the fire was. I also had no idea that those chunks of embers were being carried miles from the original fire and starting hundreds of spot fires all over Paradise and Magalia. The smoke was getting darker. It was beginning to seep into the car through the vents. I was trying to close already closed vents. I took a picture of the sky. It seemed like it was getting darker and thicker by the minute. People around me were honking and trying to move in front of others and causing a chaotic scene. I thought they needed to calm down. This is just another ” to be safe” evacuation. I think by this time, I had gotten maybe three hundred yards from my driveway and had been on the road for about 30 minutes, with screaming babies and a smoky car and smoke all around us.
We approached the intersection of Elliot and Skyway, and the number of people merging in with us was overwhelming. The police were directing traffic were trying so hard to keep it under control, but so many people were panicking and trying to pass others. Our creeping came to a halt. It seemed like we had been at a stand still for an eternity. Finally, we started our snail pace movement again. It was around this time that I noticed a lot of people running down the street or standing in some places looking like they didn’t know what they should do. I know now that they knew something that I didn’t, but I thought they needed to calm down so they don’t cause an accident and create more panic. I looked at my front seat and thought how sloppy I had thrown things into the car, and had I thought better. I could have given someone a ride.
We reached the intersection of Pearson and Skyway, and it was here that I started to realize the gravity of the situation. There were four lanes from Pearson trying to merge into our four lanes on the Skyway. There were multiple agencies directing traffic. It was here that I saw our county Sherriff directing traffic.
At this intersection, there was a large truck that was stacked full up to his roof. It had kids’ motorized vehicles as well as other misc stuff. The officer directing where he was, was waving and telling him he should get rid of some of the things on his truck, but the truck just plowed his way through. I thought this was getting crazier and crazier. As we got past the new Pizza restaurant, I could see flames. The smoke was so thick it was like nighttime. The kids were screaming louder they hated being in the car, and I am pretty sure they could feel my tension.
I looked ahead toward Neal Road and saw that both sides were engulfed in flames, and I was grateful that we were going down Skyway. My stepsister and her family live down Neal, and I thought, “Oh, their house has got to be gone.” My heart sunk. All the memories there for her and her family. As I approached the Intersection of Neal and Skyway, it was at that very moment. I realized the danger we were all in. I saw a lady running barefoot toward Feather River Health Center. As I waited in line to go whatever direction they were going to send us, I realized that that lady was running to the apartment complex that was totally engulfed in flames that were so high and with the wind blowing them back and forth hot. I thought, oh why are you running there. No one could be alive if they were there.
I pulled up to the officer, and he was directing me to a tunnel of flames, and I was like, no, I am not going through that. I said I wanted to turn around that I didn’t want to go through there. He told me I really had not a choice and that I needed to go in. His last words to me were “Good Luck.” I rolled my window down (which was a mistake) so much heat that the smoke was so hard to breathe. I rolled my window back up and slowly followed the car in front of me. At that very moment, I noticed that the babies had stopped crying and had fallen asleep. I said a prayer of gratitude that the babies fell asleep and prayed with every fiber of my being that we would be safe and get through the fire. That I would remain calm and that we would make it to the Stake Center unharmed.
As I entered the tunnel of fire. I knew exactly where I was. I had seen it probably close to a million times only from the opposite direction. I was going down the righthand lane. To my left was a suburban to his left shoulder. That lane (the shoulder) was being used for emergency vehicles going up. The car in front of me was small, and I kept my eyes on the taillights. It was so dark it looked like it was midnight. The wind was blowing so hard. Embers would blow over my car one way, then come right back over my car, going the other way. You could hear the embers as they fell or flew over the car. They would make a clinking sound—thousands and thousands of clinking sounds. I guess almost like hail dropping on your car. If this weren’t so devastating, it would have sounded melodic, almost cute.
I was following the car in front of me, and we came to a complete stop. We hadn’t even gone 20 yards, and we were at a complete stop. It was silent in the car. Well, except for the crackle of bushes burning, the explosions of the trees exploding above me. The fire was whipping all around because the wind was wild.
I heard a weird sound like a snap and whipping, then a huge thud. I saw powerlines whipping past. I’m not sure where they hit, but the pole went down directly next to me. As it crashed with a thud, heavy amounts of sparks flew up the right side of my car and over the top and windshield. Just as fast as they flew over, the wind threw them back with flames. I could hear the embers pinging and dancing on the hood of my car. The heat! The heat was starting to get unbearable. Finally, we were moving again. I suddenly wished that we weren’t. I didn’t think it was possible, but the heat got more intense, and the flames were closer.
The whole time since we entered the “tunnel of flames,” I heard honking. I knew that people were panicking. I was panicking. I listened to a honk that seemed like it was riding up close to me. I looked in my rearview mirror, but I couldn’t see anything until I looked in my drivers’ side rearview mirror. I saw a large vehicle trying to make its way between the suburban and myself. I had nowhere to go. I kept saying, “I can’t move over; there isn’t anywhere to go,” knowing that only myself could hear me. I moved what little bit that I could, and somehow that person was able to squeeze between us. I was talking loudly, saying something like your going to kill us faster than the fire. You need to stop panicking. Of course, no one could hear me.
It was about this time that I started to get a little panicky. I kept saying over and over, go, go, go, we’re going to die, we’re going to die, we’re going to die. Then, it was like a wave of calm came over me, and I sat up and took a deep breath, and concentrated on driving.
As we played stop and go, driving down the wrong way, I saw houses being consumed by flames. It was getting hotter with each inch we went. I somehow lost the suburban that was next to me. The smoke was so thick that I couldn’t see the taillights of the car in front of me either. I couldn’t see the road either. I was looking for the yellow line on the side of the road, and I couldn’t see it. Once again, I felt waves of panic taking over. I came to a complete stop; thank heavens, if I saw the car stop in front of me, I would have run right into it. I was getting a little disoriented.
I said a prayer for strength to keep going and to take away some of my anxiety, and once again, there was a calm that washed over me. I sat up and took a deep breath, and slowly started to drive again, hoping that I was going in the right direction and not driving onto the shoulder or up the embankment into the flames. It was at about this point that I saw lights flashing behind me. I was grateful that I could see anything through this blackness. The lights pulled up right next to me. It was a CalFire SUV. It stayed right next to me as if to escort me out of the tunnel of flames.
As we started to go around the bend in the road, we came to a complete halt. It was a little clearer. Maybe because the wind was picking up, I don’t know, but I could see the car in front of me and the car in front of him. I noticed that it felt like my car was swaying. Like the tires were melting. I was starting to panic again. I realized that we weren’t moving. I saw the car that was two cars ahead of me. His tires or something was on fire. The fire was in the wheel wells. I saw the car in front of me with fire coming from underneath their vehicle. It was at that time that I knew we were going to die. I said a prayer, but this time my prayer was that the babies would suffocate and die in their sleep rather than scream as they burned to death. Completely selfish of me because I didn’t want to have to hear them screaming in pain. Again, a calm came over me.
Amazingly we started moving again. Slowly but moving. As we went inch by in, the fire would flare up in places, and in other areas, it was just dark dense smoke. As we made our way around, the turn up ahead on the left were two fire engines, and I could see firefighters there with hoses. I thought that I knew exactly where we were. I thought for sure, seeing those firefighters, we were out of danger, and we were going to be coming to a clearing. I was wrong. We were not even close to a clearing, just a tiny little break that gave you just a glimmer of hope. I thought we were farther along than we were. The wind picked up just as my hopes for the end of the tunnel were dashed. A massive wave of flame swept across my car, and I could hear honking, and I just held on to the steering wheel and looked forward and followed the vehicle in front of me.
It was so hard to concentrate because I could hear explosions above me and the crackling of burning bushes and trees and who knows what else. I was pretty sure that the next curve was going to be where I would see the blue sky and the smoke and flames would be behind me, NO. Dark smoke, flames, and a lot of confusion. Sometimes just trying to figure out which way to go. Was the road straight here? Did it curvet here? Why can’t I remember? Why don’t I remember this being here? (Because it wasn’t before). Doubt, confusion, frustration but most of all terror. I was sure that I was never going to get out. Then, there it was, bright blue clear, and the first thing I did was look to my right to see how many cars were coming out from the other side. I knew how many went in when I went on my side. Not one car. I looked again and still not one car. The only thought in my head at that moment was, “there is going to be a lot of death.”
I looked ahead, and there were very few cars even on my side. It felt bizarre driving on the wrong side of the road, but it felt strange to feel so much despair and fear. All I could do was sob. At that point, my little girl woke up, and she was trying to console me the best that a 15-month-old could. She was oohing and awing and trying to comfort me the way I reassured her. All I could do was sob—uncontrollable ugly, gasping sobs.