Sparsely, Sage and Timely
Reflections from the fire
The Inverness Ridge fire that began on Tuesday, Oct. 3, 1995, consumed 45 homes in Paradise Ranch Estates subdivision in Inverness Park in less than 24 hours. By the time it was contained Friday night, it had blackened an area equivalent in size to 40 percent of San Francisco. Put in other terms, the Inverness Ridge fire swept across 4.4 times as much area as burned in the San Francisco fire (April 18, 19 & 20) that followed the 1906 earthquake.
It was a fire so enormous that numerous West Marin residents commented on its "terrible beauty." That first night, my former wife Cynthia and I parked along the Marshall shore and boggled at a line of fire five miles long on the ridge above the Inverness shore.
Every few minutes we would see a sudden flash of light followed a second later by the boom of an exploding propane tank somewhere on the ridge. In the morning, we watched from our breakfast table as flames towered above the opposite ridge.
Although the fire was contained by Saturday morning, it continued to smolder for about a month, sometimes rekindling new fires. On Oct. 14, a flare-up charred 11 more acres in Inverness Park, and on Oct. 18, two more fires broke out in the town.
On Monday, Oct. 9, Cynthia and I walked through part of the burn area of the Point Reyes National Seashore. It was like walking on the floor of a recently active volcano. Vents of smoke billowed from holes in the ground, some up to 18 inches in diameter. On close inspection they proved to have been created by bishop pine roots, which were still burning underground.
North of Limantour Road, we found hoof prints where a herd of deer had fled across the scorched earth. Judging from the way each print had scattered dirt and ashes, the deer had been running for their lives from one haven to another.
Many smaller animals weren’t so lucky. We found the remains of a rabbit near the beach, and while we were near the hostel, we surprised a vulture into dropping a dead woodrat it was trying to carry away.
Firefighters managed to save the hostel itself, but flames came so close that the building’s rain gutters melted. At the Clem Miller Environmental Education Center behind the hostel, one cabin burned, but the rest were saved.
For the most part, the catastrophe brought out the best in West Marin residents although at times people vented their unhappiness by briefly making scapegoats out of well-intentioned people:
• The four boys who accidentally started the fire (two 14 year olds and two 15 year olds) had been camping with a fire on Mount Vision, which was illegal and stupid, in the words of one firefighter. But he noted that the boys had at least made an effort to be fire safe, burying their embers and patting down the soil above. Unfortunately, the embers burned their way up through the forest duff, and when fire reached the surface days later, humidity was low and the wind was high.
Because the boys admitted to firefighters they had started the fire, residents (while critical of the boys) did not call for blood. In fact, although their identifies were well known in West Marin, no resident here was willing to tell insurance investigators their names. (Nor would the amount of liability insurance carried by the boys’ families have reduced by much the amount various insurers paid out.)
In December, the District Attorney’s office reported it would not prosecute the boys, saying, "It’s just not a provable reckless-burning case."
• A few people who owned police-and-fire scanners misinterpreted some of what they first heard and spread rumors that the fire could have been stopped earlier if fire crews were better coordinated. In fact, throughout the ordeal, coordination was excellent among the fire crews and those directing them. Incident commanders for the fire were Tom Tarp of the California Division of Forestry (which provided helicopters and air tankers for dumping water on the blaze), National Seashore Superintendent Don Neubacher, and Stan Rowan, Marin County fire chief. Together they composed a masterful triumvirate.
• When a vendor set up a little stand at Highway 1 and B Street in Point Reyes Station to sell souvenir t-shirts, many residents were indignant at what they saw as making money from other people’s tragedy. The stand’s operators were repeatedly harassed and received death threats.
What the public failed to realize was that the t-shirts were not meant to be souvenirs for West Marin residents. They were for the out-of-town firefighters, many of whom fight major fires around the state each year and collect t-shirts from each one. The shirts were emblazoned with "Cuttin’ line and kickin’ ash – Mt. Vision Fire Point Reyes National Seashore, Marin County California, October 1995." When firefighters from elsewhere found out about the harassment, they, in turn, were indignant.
Professional and volunteer firefighters from around the county, the state, and even as far away as Oregon had sped to Point Reyes as the blaze within hours grew into a major wildfire. When the firefighters finally left, West Marin residents lined their routes with signs thanking them.
Especially moved – some to tears – were the 850 inmate firefighters from Delta Conservation Camp in Solano County. Many, who camped out in a pasture of Olema Valley’s Stewart Ranch, were thrilled by pictures school children had drawn thanking them. The pictures were posted around their encampment, surprising the inmates when they showed up to eat.
Adults waved at their buses and held up signs lauding them. For some, it was the first time in their lives they had been called heroes. Although some inmates later admitted having been occasionally scared, none of them wanted to quit – including one inmate who broke a leg while on a fire line.
As Charles Dickens wrote, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times."