When 9/11 hit, we all felt icky inside. It was an uncomfortable, foreign, unnerving feeling.

Today’s tragedy brought back very similar feelings, but with twist: this time I’m right in the middle of it.

In case you have been living under a rock, wildfires ripped through San Diego county today — from the north end to the south. The flames covered 25 miles, killed at least 12 people, destroyed more than 300 homes, burned 128,000 acres, closed 5 freeways, and tapped every last resource our county has to offer. The fire may have burned my aunt’s house to the ground. And it continues to burn as I write.

“San Diego is on fire — in a big way,” my mother said this morning.

I walked outside, and I smelled smoke. The cars were covered in a layer of ash, and more ash rained down from the sky. In familiar style, it didn’t feel weird yet.

I went back inside, I turned on the news (the demise of us all), and I learned all about what was happening around me. I learned my aunt and uncle evacuated their house in Scripps Ranch. I thought of Wendy, my adviser at the Telescope, who lives in Poway. I thought of Tom, the reporter synonymous with Poway. I thought of my San Diego friends who have moved far away, who were not a part of it all.

The journalist in me jumped into my car, lowered the top, windshield-wiped an inch-thick layer of ash, and headed south on the 15. As I listened to the radio reports and pondered my future actions, I have to admit I was a bit scared. I had never seen a real wildfire — actual flames — ever in my life.

As I headed south, an ominous cloud of black and orange smoke became nearer and nearer. The smoke obscured the sun, turning it into a spectacular ball of gold. Driving toward one of the fire heads, camera in hand, alongside emergency vehicles, felt like I was on a one-way street to my doom.

At one point — instantly — an incredible heat choked me. The heat of the fires and the Santa Ana winds made for a deadly combination. I finally reached Scripps Ranch / Mercy Road and exited.

There was a mass exodus. A sea of cars all traveled in the same direction. And I went the other way. I traveled to one of the hubs of media activity, near one of the fire heads. But Scripps Ranch Road and Spring Canyon Road were blocked off, and I couldn’t go very far without police/fire credentials. (Mine are being processed at SDPD.) So I felt helpless as I watched news trucks pass through the barrier. And now, still, I have never seen the flames of a fire.

It was an ugly and scary place. The air was brown. It was dark in the middle of the day. Ashes flew into my hair, my mouth, and worst — my eyes. My lips were dry and disgusting. And it was hot.

I encountered a lot of ornery and emotional people. The heat added a lot of anger to the scene. One woman with a thick New Jersey accent cried hysterically. Her house was burning down, and her father was in the building. But the police wouldn’t let her through. Sgt. Sam Campbell tried to comfort her.

He told the woman he empathized with her, because his own home had just burned to the ground.

Observing this through the lens I had to look down for a minute to process what he said.

Another man in an RV came home from a weekend vacation to find his entire neighborhood blocked off. He was pissed. He would not give me his name, and he angrily accused me of writing down his license plate number.

I would be pissed, too.

When I left that scene, I trudged through gridlock on Mira Mesa Boulevard to visit Mira Mesa High School — the evacuation site for Scripps Ranch area residents.
Everything was a dizzying mess, but somehow still an organized mess. Red Cross volunteers handed out bottles of water, which greatly helped me at that point. Food vendors like Pat & Oscars, Papa John’s Pizza, and Krispy Kreme Doughnuts had donated infinite amounts of free food to console the nervous evacuees. It was the most appetizing thing in the world for me, but I did not partake in any of the food. I felt like it was not my place to take it.

In the MMHS gym, televisions with video games and news feeds entertained circles of people. Hastily made “Medical Help” signs led to a room filled with red jacket-clad volunteers and patients with face masks.

When I left the busy evacuation scene, I reflected on the positive images of people — complete strangers — helping out. Lifting, directing, feeding, and smiling.

I headed back home on the 15, and I merged onto an eerily empty freeway. For a while, not one person drove in front of me or behind me. Now that’s crazy.

When I got home, I overloaded myself with the same, recurring, sensational images I had seen and heard all day. Until I finally turned it off. I should have better learned my lessons from two years ago.

Even though my house isn’t in a threatened area (and yes, I’m safe), it was very difficult to do any work surrounded by a fire. It burned through Escondido, not far from my home in rural Vista. And I knew a lot of people lost their lives and homes. It was just… weird.

To all county residents: All colleges, nearly all schools, and most businesses will remain closed Monday. Hopefully things will return to normal the next day. One silver lining of the events was the beautiful sky photography made possible by the smoke.