Retired CPO wrote:
It's almost never ALL bad...Depending on your perspective.
And --as you put it, Chief, 'depending on one's perspective'-- I'd bet that relatively few things
are all bad, or are, for that matter, all good either.
This shot is an 'interpretation' of what I saw after driving the short ways south and into the Pack Creek area. Initially, I'd intended to drive a short way up the LaSal Mountain Loop to see what I might see since, as of July 7th, the fire is reportedly 95% contained. At the last moment, though, I took the turn that leads into the 'community' area where homes are and where people live. Moments after crossing the creek's bridge, destruction began to reveal itself.
Fire investigators determined the fire began at the campground a mile or two past the end of pavement. They said it was a result of a campfire someone had deserted. (There's more, but I won't go into that here.) The terrain at that point is a steep-sided 'V' of sorts, beyond the narrow but open fields at the lower end where most of the homes are, then the tightening of the foothills where the little creek flows through. Not a canyon as far as I went, but close to it; a natural path for a fire to rise into the mountains themselves.
I don't know how many homes there are down there (30? maybe more?), but more than half the ones I saw had moderate to severe damage. I noticed several work crews --building repair contractors, DNR people clearing out burned trees, etc.-- working in the heat of the day, and saw no one else in that area where ordinarily there'd be droves of tourists and/or lodgers at Pack Creek Ranch. I drove past the large, metal, semi-circular quonset hut where a local legend stored his archives and, no doubt, some of the irreplaceable 'things' he'd accumulated over his 97 years. Imagine a forty foot long, twenty foot high tin can, open on both ends, completely blackened, with vague burnt heaps of nothingness rising a foot off the ground here and there. (Luckily, the 'legend' lives higher up, in a place the fire miraculously didn't hit....) Such is life; neither
all bad nor
all good.
I only stopped once, on the dirt road section, half-way between the campground/picnic area and the wider part of the valley where the road is paved and where most of the homes are. I intend to return sometime soon. The way the scrub oak is returning --backlit against the sun amidst the skeletons of burnt trees-- is really beautiful, in its way.
I did continue a few miles further, up along the loop. There's a place there where I could see that the home of some friends had been untouched. Their place is outside the corridor of fire that led up into the mountains.