On a Sunday night in October, five years ago, I fell asleep to fierce gusts of winds and then was awakened by a dream and couldn’t get back to sleep. I was alone. I remember feeling unsettled. At 1:35 a.m., my son, Daniel, sent this text: “It’s raining ash in San Francisco from some fire in Napa. Hope all is well in Santa Rosa.”
We exchanged a string of texts, I assured him I was fine, closed the windows and tried to go back to sleep, but mostly drifted in and out. An hour later, there was another text from a friend, Cherisa Kmetovicz, who lived in my neighborhood: “Fountaingrove is on fire. We’ve evacuated. I’m safe.” She’d sent the text from a Safeway parking lot on Mendocino Avenue in Santa Rosa. There was a brief exchange of texts and calls. I was home. The power was out. I couldn’t access my car. Her friends didn’t want her to come. I didn’t want her to take the risk, but she has a big heart and is headstrong. On the phone, we spoke in short snatches between dropped calls. The last thing she said to me was, “I’m coming to get you. If they’ll let me up the hill.” If.
If. If. If. I packed a go-bag and waited. I made a deal with myself. I’d wait a half hour, and then I’d start walking.
If. If. If. I called 911. Silence. I tried again. Silence.
While I waited during those early morning hours of October 8, 2017, what I recall most was the deafening silence and the faint smell of smoke. I remember thinking that maybe this was it, but I felt a sense of calm envelop me, no matter my fate.
A half hour later, around 3 a.m., my friend arrived and we sped away in the dark of the night. Normally, we’d turn right out of the neighborhood, but we saw the fingers of flames off in the distance. Paradise Ridge Winery was on fire, so we made a left.
The enormity of what was happening didn’t fully hit me until I saw a police officer, masked from the smoke, at an intersection on Fountaingrove directing traffic, the flames of fire off in the distance at Paradise Ridge, and the flicker of headlights as cars and SUVs slowly exited in an orderly fashion. I remember being grateful that both of my sons were currently living beyond the borders of Sonoma County. They were safe.
The Tubbs fire began in Napa County—seemingly out of nowhere—and traveled at a swift and terrifying speed in the dark of the night. It was a night of unthinkable disaster that made headlines across the U.S., and will go down in history for Sonoma and Napa counties. As for the residents of Santa Rosa, it was a night that will remain indelibly imprinted. Tens of thousands of people evacuated, some running by foot from flames, nearly 5,300 homes and housing units were destroyed and 30 people didn’t make it. The fire leveled Paradise Ridge Winery, but I remember reading later in the news that its iconic “Love” sculpture was singed, but remained intact. That sculpture seemed a defiant reminder that love, indeed, conquers all.
In the days that followed, amid the rubble, debris and mountains of ash, there were signs posted nearly everywhere in the county offering hope, “The love in the air is thicker than the smoke.” The community gathered together, united and embodied the words, “Sonoma County Strong.”
On the fifth anniversary of the Tubbs fire, NorthBay biz offers a collection of photos on the following pages to honor those impacted by the firestorm. The photos depict the devastation that occurred in Sonoma County and appeared in the December 2017 issue of the magazine. In our cover story, “Five Years Later,” writer Jean Saylor Doppenberg provides on update on fire rebuilds, housing priorities and the lingering challenges to build affordable housing. May we continue to move forward and never forget the night that united a community for the betterment of everyone. May we continue to live the words that bound the community together during one of the most destructive wildfires in the history of California, Sonoma County Strong.
[Lead photo by Will Bucquoy]
