Rosso Pizzeria on Montgomery Ave. teamed up with neighbors GoguetteBread and Riviera Pasta to host lunch on Sunday October 15 for friends and neighbors as a way to heal and connect with each other. This was a chance to meet Martha’s parents who moved to Villa Capri on Fountaingrove about eight weeks ago so that they could be closer to Martha and her sister Sally.
Things were going so well, Martha took her her vacation, planned months in advance, to Croatia. She returned on Tuesday, October 10. By then, this is what her parents new home looked like. The evacuation was a debacle, and Martha’s parents were left behind, in the dark, standing in the lobby in their bedclothes in the middle of the night.
The Remains of Villa Capri – the Oval of Ashes
Martha’s sisters picked her up from her trip with the news that her own house was okay but that she was under an evacuation order (which was overly cautious — she was not). They all huddled at Sally’s for several days, so this chance to go out and socialize was very welcome. Martha loves Rosso’s pizza and her father really enjoyed the Pesto Penne. Martha was thrilled to see them both sip a little wine — this would improve their much-needed afternoon nap.
David and Lilias
We enjoyed a Monepulciano d’Abruzzo from Faranese. It was nice to start to unwind after such a stressful week. We chatted with people at the tables around us and shared stories. The food was great!
Like many people, I eat to self-sooth. Most choose sweets, I like really good bread. GoGuetteBread decorated the bar with special loaves made for the occasion.
Warm farewells all around as Martha and her parents went to her place to give Sally a break. Don’t they look great for being in their 90’s? Thanks, Rosso, Riviera and GoGuetteBread!
The scorched remains of their life may have been removed without permit. Photo by Martha. Click photo for related article.
Photo by Martha of her parent’s home at Villa Capri
My House Is Red X Lower Left, Hwy 101 Bisects Santa Rosa
My phone rang at 1:30 a.m. It was barely Monday. The woman said, “This is Kim, your next-door neighbor. I’m in Dallas and I can’t reach my husband. There are fires in your area.” I had smelled wood smoke three hours earlier when I left the Roxy in downtown Santa Rosa, which would be an inch or so south on this map. I was leaving “Blade Runner” by the side door and felt like I was emerging into another scene of the long movie because the wind was gusting insanely and particulate matter was ricocheting through the air — mostly leaves on this October night.
“Mark West Springs Road is on fire,” (blue line at top of map) “and they are evacuating our homes. I can’t find my husband.” I asked if she wanted me to knock on his door, so she held on while I went outside. The wind was gusting violently and our garbage cans had been knocked over but the street was quiet, his car wasn’t there, there was a light on in the house but no answer to the doorbell. (red X at lower left)
“There’s an evacuation order for our neighborhood — did you receive it?” Kim sounded anxious. Well, there was one for an adjacent neighborhood but our street was silent.
“Wait,” I said. “Geez, all the doors on the street just opened and everyone is coming out. There is a new alert. The evacuation zone has been expanded to include us.”
“Get out now,” Kim said. “Go to Finley Center now. Round Barn is on fire.” The historic old barn is on the other side of the freeway so I took a few moments to grab the Trust Documents and my passport, my computer and the backup drives with my client info. People were driving crazy on my short 2 a.m. trip. I got one of the last parking spaces and went inside to something that looked like registration day for first grade. Lots of dazed kids clinging to parents trying to hold it together. I promptly crossed the courtyard to the Senior wing which the parents apparently did not know about. Emergency personnel were streaming into the Senior wing, but no civilians.
I picked a corner near a power outlet and plugged in my phone. It dinged again, a text from Kim. “Fire has crossed Freeway. Hopper evacuated. K-Mart on fire.” Now, this isn’t supposed to happen. I believed:
Forest fires don’t happen in cities. We have nice, polite, one-structure-at-a-time fires that are near fire hydrants.
Fires don’t cross the Freeway. It’s, like, a zoning regulation.
The two green circles show the 101 Freeway that separates the rich on the right side, from the poor, on the left (sinister in Latin, gauche in French). The strong diagonal line at the left edge of the yellow hashmarks is the SMART train track. My house is on the “other side of the tracks.” That was lucky, because the tracks became the main firebreak that everyone thought the freeway would be. We were shocked when the flames leapt over.
We have three hospitals in the area and two were evacuated at the same time I was. They are both in or close to the yellow area you see above — one up by Mark West Springs, and Kaiser Hospital which is just east of the square “492” exit sign for the freeway. The mobile home park adjacent to it, “Journey’s End,” was incinerated.
So were all the homes in the Coffey Park area which is the piece of the fire stretching down toward my house. They stopped it about a mile from my house. They stopped it 11 houses from my friend Alice’s house. My friend Joyce was not so lucky. Her house is now about six inches high (see photo below), and they had to leave behind her husband’s car because he cannot drive. He had been released from the hospital just a few days earlier after an eight-hour operation on his heart. As they fled, their neighbor’s house was already in flames. They couldn’t get to Finley center because of the gridlock on Piner Rd.
Joyce’s House Monday 9 October 2017
The Senior wing filled up quickly and soon I heard a familiar voice. Carolyn and Rich Gibbons were there, in their pajamas, because they left their Brush Creek home promptly. Kim found her husband, a city worker, had been called in at midnight to cope with wind damage. Later, he said, “The winds on Sunday night were breaking off big tree limbs and blocking Fountaingrove Parkway. I couldn’t stand up, the wind had to be 60 mph.” (PG&E measured winds of 75 mph.) “From the top of Fountaingrove I saw the fire come down from Calistoga, then JUMP to Mark West Springs Road. It didn’t burn through — it was like a torch being lit. It was a terrible sight.”
This is what daybreak looked like on Monday Oct 9.
A couple of hours after I took this picture, I walked a mile through the thick smoke to bypass the police barriers and found my house standing but the electricity and gas off. I shuttled back and forth for a couple of days as the fires continued, but the high winds forecast for Wednesday night sent me to Jill’s in Petaluma. Thursday evening, the electricity was restored. On Saturday afternoon, PG&E turned on the gas and re-lit the pilot lights on my furnace and water heater. The fires are not out yet, but many of us are feeling more hopeful.
NYTimes article with charts and graphic showing how and why this fire got so big so fast. My friend Janice lives a few blocks closer to the edge of the fire — her condo is only a half-mile from where the fire was stopped. She moved here to be closer to her daughter and two grandchildren who lived in Coffey Park. Here is their house now.
Janice’s Daughter’s Coffey Park House
Update – Nine Months Later
Today I finally had the guts to go see Rincon Ridge, a Fountaingrove community that suffered the same level of devastation as Coffey Park. In Coffey Park, work has commenced on rebuilding my friend Joyce’s home. As you can see on the map below, the Hanley fire of 1964 burned Fountaingrove but not Coffey Park. Fountaingrove also burned in The Forgotten Fire of 1870. Trader Joe’s is still not open, but they have announced work on it so hope is in the air.
Hanley 1964 Fire Outline in Red, Tubbs Fire Gray Outline. Coffey Park is the Peninsula at about 7 o’clock.