To me, the scariest thing about the hogback fire was the fact that there was not a whole lot anyone could do, except get ready to run if needed. It was way too windy for aircraft to fly over the fire. There was more than enough dry, lightweight fuel for the fire to turn into sparks. The firefighters were struggling to get ahead of the flames, due to the winds being so fast and hard for firefighters to stand in. They were trying their hardest, but at the end of the day, not even Colorado firefighters could do much to contain the flames till the winds died down. And those winds showed no signs of slowing down. 

Since I had no control over the weather, I controlled only what I could. In this case, all I could really do was prepare for the worst, but pray for the best. 

Thankfully, my prayers were answered. As the sun was setting behind the western foothills, the winds died down significantly, and firefighters were able to catch up to the fire and keep it completely contained. Not a single structure was burned by the Hogback fire, and it was quickly determined that downed power lines were what started the fire. 

All’s well that ends well… I guess. 

Except, this isn’t gonna be the last fire to threaten the Front Range. Thanks to climate change and human expansion, these winter fires are gonna get more common, and likely more destructive. I think it’s miraculous that the Hogback fire didn’t become a massive disaster. I mean, the ingredients were right there. The winds were blowing towards the southeast at 50-90 miles per hour, so aircraft couldn’t fly over it. It began burning in a relatively undeveloped area, so there wasn’t much water infrastructure for firefighters to use against it. The fire wasn’t even a mile away from civilization in any direction, and it had plenty of fuel to get it across the highway and/or into the suburbs. 

But, someway, somehow, the fire basically turned out to be no big deal. Ok, it canceled a concert at Red Rocks. And there was some relatively minor wind damage around town. But, nobody died or got seriously injured, and that's all that really matters. 

I’m so glad I got to stay home and unpack, rather than have had to drive alone through wind and flames to escape, never to see my home again. 

Did I feel a little silly/overreactive as I unpacked my stuff? Well... yes and no. I certainly overprepared for what turned out to be no big deal. But, I didn't feel silly about it. I'd seen the damage caused by the Marshall fire (and the Troublesome fire, too) first hand. Mom and I drove through the Glenwood Canyon wildfire on our way back from Utah during the summer of 2020. Not on purpose, I'll add. But, it was too late to turn around once we realized what we were driving into, and we had to press on through heavy smoke and lingering flames. 

Thank God we were driving my Xterra, and not my mom's shitty little Rav4 at the time. 

I've also experienced and seen the damage caused by other natural disasters, too, each of them permanently branding themselves in my mind. Because of this, I'm not ashamed of being so skittish and "overprepared" when it comes to acts of nature. Sure, I definitely have an anxiety disorder of some sort. But, that's not really why I react to natural disasters like I do. I do it because, in my mind, I've made it too far to roast to death, or get crushed by a widowmaker, or drown in a flood, or get struck by lightning, or get sucked up by a tornado. 

So, I will do everything I can to avoid those things, even if I look a little "silly" to other people.

In other words, I will gladly prepare for the worst, but pray for the best.