Sun., Oct. 21
I saw the first plumes of smoke from the Witch Fire as I was returning home in San Diego County’s Descanso on Sunday afternoon. At that time I hadn’t heard of the Witch Fire, the Harris Fire or any of the others that would follow, and I wasn’t overly concerned about the smoke.
I have only been in San Diego for two years, but I have already learned that fires are part of life. This wasn’t the first time I had returned home to smoke in the distance and slept with an ominous orange glow lighting the horizon. When I returned home, turned on the news and heard the words “This has the possibility to be worse than the Cedar Fire,” I started to understand the gravity of the situation.
Unlike the Cedar Fire, the officials were not letting horse trailers past the barricades into Ramona. It was heart wrenching watching the news and seeing people walk their burned ponies out of Ramona. I didn’t sleep that night. Not only because of the fire, but because the 60 mile per hour Santa Ana winds were ripping the shingles off my roof and literally shaking my small house.

Mon., Oct. 22
I received a call from my landlords at 12:30 a.m. telling me not to leave my house, that a piece of sheet metal that had been used to patch my roof was loose and swinging wildly in front of the door. At 2:30 a.m. my publisher, Cheryl Erpelding, was telling me to be on the look out for a fire spotted near Descanso. We couldn’t see the fire, but shortly after Cheryl called the wind took out our power.
The power was out for two hours and, only five minutes after it came back on, my trainer Nancy Reed called. She had been trying to reach me and Cheryl for an hour. Hazy Meadow in Lakeside was being evacuated. Within 20 minutes my landlord had helped me hook up my three-horse stock trailer and I was on the road headed toward Lakeside. It was the beginning of one of the longest days of my life.
Heading down Interstate 8 I could see the fire burning around the El Capitan Reservoir. I met up with Nancy, Cheryl, my barn buddy Stephanie Jensen and her husband Richard at Hazy Meadow. Only two of the horses in Nancy’s care—my little mare, Skeeter, and Stephanie’s new mare, Isabel, still needed a ride. Cheryl took the mares and followed Nancy and Rick out. I stayed with Steph, who was in Nancy’s CRV, to help evacuate the horses that were left.
I had lost my cell phone two days earlier, so Stephanie was going to act as my navigator and radio operator. The original plan was to take the horses to the Del Mar Fairgrounds. The closer we got to the Fairgrounds the thicker the smoke got. Ash swirled though the air and the sun was scarcely visible. One exit away from the Fairgrounds, our plans changed. I only knew this because Stephanie got off the highway too soon and we ended up circling Del Mar for 20 minutes.

U-Turn At Del Mar
Instead, we were going to take the horses to Sweetwater Farms in Bonita. But first we had to go back and get two horses that were left at the Fairgrounds. The line to get into the fairgrounds was mind-boggling. I’ve been to many horse shows and never seen a line like it! It stretched for over a mile, down one side of the road and back around. I followed Steph and Rick, who had joined us on the way, as we begged and pleaded our way to the front of the line. After a few stops, they let us go in ahead of others because we were picking up horses, not dropping them off.
I was glad we were taking our horses somewhere else. The dirt aisles of track, combined with smoke, ash and high winds was rough on my eyes after only a few minutes. I couldn’t imagine our horses breathing it in for days. But we only had room to take one horse and we had two at the Fairgrounds. In the end we took the smaller of the two, Ernie, a little bay Thoroughbred. I held Nancy’s big chestnut hunter, Fred, while Steph maneuvered Ernie into the first, larger trailer stall with a small cob, Chief. Fred made a wonderful wind bearing and was more than willing to let me hide my face in his neck while we waited to reload him.
Nancy and Cheryl called and told us they were coming for the other horse, Buggs, so we ended up leaving him. The trip from Del Mar to Bonita went smoothly. It was the last smooth trip of the day. As we were unloading at Sweetwater, Stephanie got a call from Teresa and Dan Kackert, of Great Horses of America: they had 30 horses and were being evacuated in Jamul. Nancy had left her seven-horse rig, so Rick took her trailer, Steph hopped in their truck and borrowed trailer and I followed.
I thought I lived in the boonies, but compared to where Great Horses is located I am practically in the suburbs. We had to travel down two dirt roads to get to the farm and at one point I was sure Steph was lost. However, we finally arrived at the farm, with only one small detour to pick up two horses. Despite its remote location, the farm was lovely and the horses all loaded with no problems.
That said, my truck was not intended to ever pull four horses. Coming down the dirt road I immediately started sliding sideways coming down the first hill. I had to stop and have Rick drive my truck to the main road. It was not much better driving on pavement. My brakes started smoking coming down a long hill and for a few panicked moments I thought I was going to start the ninth San Diego fire. Rick once again saved me. He told me how to use my first and second gears to slow the truck down to avoid straining my brakes. I kept rolling along in first gear and my brakes cooled down. I, however, took substantially longer to cool down.
We, the horses and me, made it to Granite Hills all in one piece. Stephanie immediately asked me if I was OK. I told her, “I’m shaking like a leaf and I need a bigger truck…a way bigger truck.” She just laughed, and told me that she knew if I had to I would do it all over again, because someone would do it for me! And I did.
We made a second trip back up the mountain to Great Horses. By the time we unloaded horses at Granite Hills and started back they had fire barricades up and the roads were closed. We had to play our trump card. Because Rick is a retired fire captain, the police and Cal Fire would occasionally let him lead trailers into areas that were under evacuation. It didn’t work. The police turned us away at the first barricade. So we tried again. After a few minutes of discussion they said they would let Rick lead us in.
I couldn’t have asked for better leader. Steph and Rick repeatedly checked in with me to make sure I was OK. Stephanie wanted to make sure I was comfortable following them past the police barricades. Cheryl was already home and had called to let me know that if Descanso was evacuated she would get my other horse, Prize. With my animals taken care of, I told Stephanie I would go wherever they needed me.

Firestorm
Driving back, we passed between two mountains and into a valley. Over the Western Ridge I could see smoke, but it seemed far away. I couldn’t imagine why they were evacuating the area. I was very wrong. With the addition of Great Horses’ seven-horse trailer, we managed to get the last of Teresa and Dan’s horses out and even loaded a truck full of hay and bedding. We began our hike back to Granite Hill, my new knowledge of how to use my gears to slow down made the journey far easier. We rounded a mountain corner and started to make our way back into the valley. Until that moment I thought I understood what a firestorm was: I had no idea.
The ridge where just two hours before there had only been distant smoke was alight with flame; the image of it is forever burned into my mind. Fire outlined the entire ridge as far as I could see, and on other distant ridges flames danced, igniting anything in their path. It was frightening, and yet, eerily beautiful all at once. By the time we made it to Granite Hills it was 9 a.m. I had been going for hours and was exhausted, but a call came from a couple in West Alpine that needed help evacuating.
They only had a two-horse trailer and they owned four horses; they also had no place to go. In the end I went to get the horse and told their owner, Carol, she could bring them to my house in Descanso. We didn’t have any open stalls, but the round pen and turnout corrals were open. Carol and her husband took two of their horses and I took their two Peruvian Pasos, Misty and Jazz, in my trailer. Together we made our way to Descanso. The highway was closed to high profile vehicles, due to high winds. One exit away from Descanso the police detoured us off the highway, my only way home. Despite the fact that the San Diego police had let Cheryl up I-8 several times with her trailer they decided our trailers were high profile. I was panicked. I just wanted to go home. I called Steph, who called Cheryl, who told me to try and explain my situation to the police one more time before she explained to me how to take the back way up the mountain--a gravel road across the Indian reservation.
After my experience on the dirt road it was the last thing I wanted to do. We turned around and I pleaded with the police, and they took pity on me. They gave us a police escort to my exit, and I was told to go directly to my exit with no stopping. I felt like I was playing Monopoly, ‘Yes Officer, I will go directly to jail without passing go and collecting my $200 dollars!’ But it was Murphy’s law: Just when you think it can’t get worse, it will find a way. We made it all the way up my mountain and as we turned onto my street we saw flames two ridges away; and the power was out, again.
My gut was twisting. After much debating we decided I would keep Misty and Jazz with me, because I had animals I still had to evacuate at my house and I hadn’t packed anything. After talking with my landlords we decided to wait and keep an eye on the hotspot which turned out to be an offshoot of the McCoy Fire. By the time I made it home Monday, I hadn’t slept in 48 hours, I hadn’t seen a hairbrush in 36 hours and I had been on the road for almost 18 hours. A hairbrush I was able to find, even in the dark, but sleep was still nowhere in sight.

Tues., Oct. 23
I set my alarm for 1:30 a.m. so I could check the status of the hotspot. I figured if I was going to have to evacuate I should try to get some sleep before hand. When I woke up, the fire was the same, a few flames two ridges away. But it didn’t appear any closer, so I set my alarm for 3:30 and went back to bed. When the alarm went off again, the flames were out. While I slept the winds finally worked in our favor. Pushing the small fire back on the burn area and depriving the fire of fuel. For the first time in what felt like an eternity I was able to sleep deeply.
I spent Tuesday morning caring for the horses left at my house and packing a few possessions in case we got the reverse 9-1-1 call. The evacuation order on Carol’s house was lifted and she was able to come retrieve her horses that afternoon. Having two horses in two different locations I could understand her urge to have them all home with her. Carol and Dan had spent the previous night at Granite Hills with their other two horses. I was very lucky that my mare was with Nancy, who I know and trusted to care for her and make sure she was safely evacuated again if the need arose. Carol didn’t know me, but she trusted me with her horses. It says a lot of the nature of San Diego as a community. I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support. As I was evacuating horses Monday, people would stop next to our caravan at stop lights and ask if we needed a place to take our horses. They would let us know what local places were taking horses or offer their own farm. One woman told us her barn was full, but offered to open up her back yard for us. Others offered to buy supplies—hay, feed, and water buckets— whatever we needed.
I spent the rest of the day like many others, contacting friends in the area to see if they needed help, calming my family and friends on the East Coast and watching the news with my landlords and neighbors. Around 7 p.m. we heard that Julian to the north and Cuyamaca to the east were being evacuated. It was time to pack our vehicles. With everything already packed, getting our vehicles loaded up was easy. We called 2-1-1 for info and it said Descanso was under a mandatory evacuation. However, we did not receive the reverse 9-1-1, so we decided to once again sit tight. It had been on the news that several people accidentally received evacuation notices because the system can’t differentiate between the different towns. When I went to bed Tuesday night we could see the glow from Julian on the horizon.

Wed., Oct. 24
Everything was calm in my area Wednesday morning so I decided to go visit Teresa and Dan and see how the equestrians were faring at Granite Hills High School. The facility was far less crowded than it was two days ago and people had dropped off tons of supplies for people and horses. However, things weren’t looking good for Teresa and Dan’s house. The Jamul fire was sneaking closer and closer to their house. It made my heart sick to think of their lovely farm burning, so far out, I couldn’t imagine a fire truck finding it. But they were both happy that they had evacuated early; with only one road in and out Dan says the roads were packed yesterday with people that had delayed and stayed until the last minute.
A dozen enthusiastic volunteers had come out to walk horses for them. With no corrals, the horses had to be tied to poles on the chain link fences. Some let the horses graze, while other volunteers trotted horses in hand. Everyone was doing their part - even their oldest daughter, Patricia, did her part. At only 5, she had haltered her pony, Pink Heart, and their miniature donkey, Banjo, to prepare them for evacuation and loaded them into Nancy’s trailer. When I left Granite Hills High School, Teresa and Dan’s children were playing with their grandmother, while their parents organized the volunteers.
I spent part of the afternoon driving around Lakeside, El Cajon and Jamul with my neighbor and friend, Kristen Peliosis. The smoke plumes were amazing; we could see them from miles away. I took a few photos but they just didn’t do the scene justice. As of Wednesday evening over 300,000 acres had burned, 521,000 people have been evacuated and it is estimated that approximately 1,700 homes have been lost. Both the Del Mar Racetrack, which holds 1,900 horses and the Del Mar Show Park are packed to full capacity. Thousands of horses and other livestock have been evacuated, some two or three times as the fire grew or changed directions. But you don’t hear people saying they are fire victims, instead San Diegans say they are survivors.