Escape from the Black Forest Wildfire
The wildfire killed two neighbors, destroyed over 14,000 acres and burned 500 homes
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I saw treetops ablaze as I turned to drive up our road on my way home from a luncheon meeting. It looked like it was confined to ten trees, but the flames were raging. I immediately thought, “OMG! That looks ugly. I hope someone’s called it in.” I sped the four miles up the road to my cabin home, and jumped on the computer to see if my newsfeed had reported the fire. I saw nothing. And it was easily 15 minutes later before I heard emergency vehicles race past our driveway towards the fire.
I kept thinking, “Oh, they’ll put it out. It’s miles down the road yet. It won’t reach us here. Certainly they’ll put it out.”
Not sure what to do. Stay on the computer watching for updates? Call my folks in case we need to evacuate? Start to pack? Call the fire department for instructions? Should we just wait to see if it gets worse?
The phone started to ring and I answered each call. “Yes, we’re fine. No, they haven’t started evacuations. Thank you for the offer. I’ll keep you posted.”
Then there was pounding on the front door. It was a friend who had seen the smoke and heard on the radio that Black Forest was burning. “I had to take the back way around. They’ve closed your road. How come you’re not packing?” He led me outside to see huge yellow clouds billowing high through the trees. We turned on the TV and saw aerial views of houses burning right down the road.
That’s all it took for me to get the message. They obviously weren’t going to put this one out before it reached us. It had grown too big, too fast.
My daughter called from the BBQ across the street where she worked. “Mom, you’ve got to get out. They’re evacuating everyone on your road. Please leave NOW!” I remember thinking how weird it felt to leave her behind, just a stone’s throw across the road. “I’ll be okay Mom. The police are here and they’ll tell us when to leave. We’re handing out water and food to first responders. Don’t worry about me. Just get out!”
Evacuating Our Home
I turned back to my friend and asked, “If I leave out enough food and water, do you think the cats will be okay till we get back?” He looked at me in horror. “Laura, you may not have a home to come back to. You’ve got to take the cats with you.”
It felt like a dream, packing up to leave not knowing if we’d be back to our home or not. I kept telling myself, “Stay calm. Think.” So we started in. My son caught the cats from where they were hiding behind the washer and dryer. I said to him, “Pack anything that’s important to you.” So he threw some things in a duffel bag. I gathered a few changes of clothes, personal papers, jewelry, my computer and photo albums. We put as much as we could in the car, then I went around and took pictures. Something told me it might be my last chance to record what life was like in that lovely log cabin.
By now, ash was falling through the sky and accumulating on my car hood. The sky was turning orange. As we started to pull away, a neighbor rushed over on his motorcycle and handed me a bag of papers he wanted to save. “Please keep these for me; I’ll get them later,” he said. Then he raced away down the driveway.
We left our house about 4:30 pm and it’s likely the fire engulfed our cabin about an hour later.
Here is a short video a reporter took of the intersection 300 yards from my house as the flames approached.
I pushed my suitcase into my parent’s kitchen and said to my mom, jokingly, “Well, this could be all I have left in this world.” Little did I know how truthful that was.
It took four days before we learned the status of our house. Four days of checking the county records, of not knowing. On the last day, I was sitting with my mom on their front porch when my brother came out to us and said, very gently, “Laurie, the cabin is gone.” It’s a moment I’ll never forget. We were homeless. Where would we go? What should I do next? There was no guidebook to give us instructions.
After the Fire
But I knew enough to call the insurance company first to file a claim. They said they’d send a check so we could purchase essentials like toothpaste and underwear. And so began the process of piecing our lives back together.
We were lucky we had some time to prepare before we evacuated. There were lots of people who couldn’t make it back to their homes because they were in Colorado Springs at work and the roads had been closed. Some couldn’t get their pets out. Many lost family treasures like their photos. Two people lost their lives because they waited too long to get out and their car wouldn’t start. The fire had sucked out the oxygen.
Despite our loss, we got out alive and that was everything. The rest was “just stuff” — most we could replace.
The next year was a blur. We had to find a place to live and purchase beds, clothes, dishes, etc. At the property, volunteers sifted through ashes and found a few bucketfuls of “treasures” but hardly anything worth keeping. Weeks later, I hired a company to clear the land. The foundation couldn’t be saved. It all had to be removed. I found a builder and an architect to draw plans for the new house. While others decided to move away, I wanted to stay on the property. Some of our trees had survived the fire.
Completing the household inventory was about as bad as giving birth, but I claimed everything I could remember, even down to the toothpicks. We were fortunate because we had good insurance and my claims adjuster was fair — not Santa Claus and not a friend, as he shouldn’t have been — but fair.
It seemed odd but I had to cancel my phone service. This was back when I had a land line and all the wires had burned. The same with the cable company. And the trash collector. I laughed to think that we’d actually need to tell them to stop picking up garbage when there was no house standing there. We had to pick up mail at the post office for months, which was an opportunity to meet and talk to other wildfire survivors waiting in line.
Coincidentally, I met the man at a conference whose house was filmed burning over and over again on the news the day of the fire. He and I had also both attended the luncheon meeting I was at the day of the fire. The speaker at that luncheon was Jerri Marr, the Forest Supervisor of the U.S. Forest Service for the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs that had occurred the year before. She talked about leadership during times of trial and tragedy. Little did I know that afternoon we would have our very own wildfire to cope with.
Lessons Learned
I look back now, over a decade later and still freeze up when we have a hot, dry, windy day — or anytime there’s smoke in the air. We learned a lot as a result of that wildfire:
It’s important to have a plan in case you need to evacuate your house. If you’re not all together at home, it’s good to know what to pack and where to reconnect after the event.
Keep important documents and a computer backup disc in a safety deposit box
Friends and even strangers will be there to help you and you should accept their offers with gratitude rather than trying to shoulder it all yourself
Some people will cope with the grief and recovery process very different than you will — have patience with them as they struggle with anger and depression
County, State and community services like Salvation Army will provide a great deal of help
First responders were a Godsend — we thank them for their dedication and skill
Life will be a blur. Nothing will get done quickly. Recovery takes time — years in most cases.
You will describe future life events as “Before the fire” or “After the fire” (flood, hurricane, etc.)
Most things can be replaced
I miss our little log cabin. It was an idyllic spot under the pines and there were lots of good times. But life has gone on, replaced by a new home, my husband Doug (who would never have fit in a 900 sq. foot cabin) and plenty of good memories.
I’m very thankful for our safety and our ability to appreciate the most important things of all — faith, family and friends!
Wow! I remember this fire now. My brother-in-law almost lost his house in the Louisville Colorado fire about 2 years ago (around Christmas). Almost 500 houses burned in that one. You are so lucky to get out and thank you for your well-thought out list of things to do BEFORE. I hope you are in safe place now.
Thank you for sharing your firsthand perspective of the Black Forest Fire. Because I was originally from Iowa, I'd never experienced a wildfire until Waldo Canyon. Then to have another one the next year? Unreal. I took freeze up when it hasn't rained and you smell smoke. We've learned a lot of lessons in that time.