Page 47 - Southern Oregon Magazine Winter 2021

he Almeda Fire that started in the northern portion of
Ashland, Oregon on the morning of September 8, 2020
caused untold devastation, loss, and heartache. The fire
Tquicky spread from Ashland to Talent, Phoenix, and Medford
consuming over 3,124 homes and structures in its furious path. The
Rogue Valley had been nearing the end of a dry, parched summer,
and the temperatures on that ill-fated morning were in the nineties.
Warnings of an unprecedented “wind event” had been aired for the days
prior, but unlike any previous wind warnings, this event brought with
it ominous wind gusts reaching 45 mph and higher.

The fire seemingly took on a soul of its own with an unforgiving and
unrelenting fury of passion. Being fueled by the arid terrain, high
winds, and high temperatures the “perfect storm” had been ignited.
Tracking a course in a northwesterly direction, the powerful winds
and fires seemed to work in unison to decimate most of the structures
in its path. Parts of the besieged towns of Talent and Phoenix, Oregon
were ultimately transformed into heaps of diaphanous ash, while leav-
ing other structures unscathed. Reflective of postcard images of bomb-
ridden war zones, these towns were left with few landmarks to remind
us of the connections we once embraced.

The trees had just begun to display the brilliance of autumn with red
and brown hues, while others remained untouched by the cooling
evenings and diminished sun. The falling leaves on driveways foretold
of winters arrival, and our dwellings provided us limitless refuge and
comfort. With lofty trees and modest homes lining each side of the
street, the trees were welcoming. Turning the corner onto our street,
I always felt a sense of relief and comfort knowing that I was home.

That morning, the ominous winds arrived and seemed to warn us of
some impending demolition to follow. The gusts were so penetrating
that it created an instinctive feeling of apprehension and foreboding.
By mid-morning, a threatening yet pulpous cloud had formed to the
southeast and appeared to be advancing quickly. The decision to evacu-
ate came without hesitation as we began to gather items and heirloom
valuables to take with us. The process of evacuation was surreal, and
we worked fervently to pack. The pets were priority, first to be loaded
into our cars as our most precious cargo. The collection of cherished
paintings and a lifetime of boxed family photos quickly followed as
well as some clothing and other items. An instinctive yet orderly chaos
soon turned into aimless muddle as a powerful inclination to leave our
home ensued.

Joining the endless caravan of bumper-to-bumper cars heading north,
the traffic had all but stopped not far from our neighborhood. The dark
menacing plume of smoke that we had seen from our front door was
now tinged with bright red flushes and rapidly encroaching on us as
we sat idle and defenseless in our cars. Thoughts of our survival dimin-
ished as I envisioned those souls who perished during the Paradise fires
while escaping in their cars. It was at this time that I felt that our home
had been consumed. I realized later that what I saw in that malevolent
cloud of smoke contained our home. Eventually, both lanes were des-
ignated northbound and we crept slowly from the danger.

Dominating the news and social media the following day were pictures

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