The next thing I remember, I’m riding shotgun in my mom’s 4Runner, going south down Continental Divide Road to see if we could spot anything from the light at the Chatfield intersection. Sure enough, the black sky glowed an eerie orange above the hogbacks to the south, and I could faintly smell the smoke in the air as it wafted in through my open window. It smelled just like a campfire. Thanks to that smell, I was instantly wide-awake as we drove north down Chatfield towards Ken Caryl Avenue, the sky glowing orange in the rearview mirrors.
First, my mom wanted to loop around the entire South Valley neighborhood, just to reassure herself that the valley itself wasn’t on fire. I caught a glimpse of flames shooting up into the sky towards the south as we embarked on the loop. Then, at the end of the loop, at the intersection of South Valley Road and Valley Parkway, we parked facing the south. I stepped out of the 4Runner while Mom stayed and watched the fire from inside. There were several other spectators, a couple of whom already had suitcases packed in the beds of their trucks, parked on the side of the road with us, while police and firefighters were rushing all around.
The fire was on the mountain just south of Lockheed Martin, and it was growing alarmingly fast. I could see pillars of flames explode from the fire every now and then as it touched the bone-dry Gambel oaks. I licked a finger to test the wind, which was thankfully blowing against my back at less than a mile per hour. But, I worried that the houses just east of the fire would soon go up in flames, as the fire propelled itself towards them. At least, it seemed like the fire was headed that way.
I don’t recall how long I stood in the headlights, just staring at the fire in disbelief. But, I eventually decided that standing there would do nothing to help anyone, including myself. I clambered back into the 4Runner and ordered Mom to take us home, so we could pack essentials and irreplacables, just in case the fire exploded.
As soon as we got home, I B-lined it for my bedroom and started digging colorful fabric drawer boxes out from under my bed. Some of those boxes contained important and irreplaceable mementos such as family pictures and heirlooms. Others contained important documents that would be a real pain in the ass to replace. The rest contained much more replaceable items I decided I’d leave behind if the fire jumped the hogback.
I then emptied out almost my entire wardrobe into a single hamper, then put the hamper next to my bedroom door. I also gathered up some bedding and folded it next to the hamper, leaving only a single blanket and a couple pillows on my bed. Lastly, I dug all of my medication out of my medicine drawer and stuffed them in my backpack. Like everything else deemed too important to leave behind, I tossed my backpack on top of my go-pile.
I knew sleep was important, especially if I had to suddenly get in my Xterra and drive across town to my grandparents’ house. At the same time, my brain would be failing me if it let me fall asleep, even though I was ready to go if the cops called us demanding we evacuate. So, I simply lay in bed with my eyes closed, praying that the wind would stay still while the fire burned.
While I knew that circumstances were quite different, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Marshall fire, or the fire that sparked on the hogback just a few days before. Had the wind been gusting as strong as it had on the day of the Marshall fire when the hogback fire was started, I probably would’ve lost my entire neighborhood. Instead, there was no wind that day (that I remember, at least), which kept the fire small and allowed for a couple small water planes to skim the reservoir and douse the flames. I watched those planes divebomb the hogback with water from my house, and only went to sleep when the hogback stopped glowing orange that night.
When the Marshall fire happened, I was scared shitless, even though the fire itself was over twenty-five miles away. After all, the winds were insanely strong that day (they were gusting over 100 miles per hour, which is already scary), and were blowing in my general direction. There was no stopping that fire till the wind stopped, and the wind was roaring against my house long after night fell.
When morning came, the wind had died down but the destruction was immense. The Marshall fire caused as much damage as an EF5 tornado. Entire neighborhoods (and almost the entire town of Superior) were reduced to charred rubble and two people were killed. Almost three years later, Boulder is still rebuilding.
