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Fires bring back lots of memories

By Carol Woodman

Déjà vu. Every time the fires hit Malibu I go back to a time in the ’60s when we lived there. Malibu in the ’60s was a wonderfully family oriented community where neighbors looked out for neighbors. We had horses and a great little horse club, Trancas Riders and Ropers that put on horse shows and even the youngest riders won ribbons.

The teenage boys enrolled in the junior life guard program and learned how to handle the dangerous rip tides and undercurrents. It made their day when they pulled a few unwary tourists to safety. We were living in paradise compared to the hot summers and freezing winters of New York.

We had earthquakes and although they often shook the house and moved the ground we ignored them. However, in October when the weather turned really hot and the Santa Ana winds came howling out of the desert bringing the wildfires, paradise became hell.

My first fire experience started one morning as I watched a strange orange and black cloud appear over the hill. My neighbor rushed over to tell me there was a fire on the way. We immediately began preparations to battle it. We filled everything that held water: bathtubs, sinks, pails, pots and large bowls. Then soaked our small rugs and towels in them.

An hour later the schools were put on lock down. Parents had to pick up their children as they couldn’t be bussed home. The fire was coming our way so it was off to the school. My kids hopped in the station wagon and a few of the older boy’s friends climbed out a school window and came with us. We needed all the help we could get.

Arriving home we could see the fire approaching but still a mile or more away. We took the younger children and horses down to Zuma Beach where many people had already gathered and volunteered to look after them. My youngest, four at the time, wanted to know why the sun was red and day was dark like night.

Returning home the older boys were on the roof with buckets and towels ready to throw on the flying firebrands that landed. Two of their friends were on the ground with water to throw on embers stuck under the eaves. We lived across from Zuma Beach so if the fire was threatening to engulf the house the boys could run across the highway.

My eldest son was in high school in Santa Monica so we knew he was safe. What I didn’t know was that as soon as the Malibu students heard about the fire they were on the highway hitching a ride as far as they could. When they came to the road closure they ran along the beach through smoke so thick that sometimes they could only see lapping water and it was 10 miles home.

My 84-year-old friend was alone with her horses so I took another two teenagers and followed a sheriffs car down the highway to her home where we were able to put out all the firebrands that landed on her house and horses.

The animals were enclosed in an electric fence and sometimes to our great shock we forgot to turn it off before throwing water. Ouch. We watched a nearby house implode as the fire pulled all the oxygen from it. Working late into the hot night we were fatigued to the max but only headed home when the fire turned back on itself.

And we had a home. We were very lucky as the boys had literally saved it. In this way we fought three different fires. I believe the reason we didn’t have the raging infernos of this year was rainy winters and fewer residences. I can weather the winter rains and winds happily in Point Roberts when I remember the alternative.