LAKE COUNTY >> Before 1:30 p.m. on Sunday, the only commotion at the Highlands Senior Center in Clearlake — one of the original evacuation shelters for the Clayton Fire — was caused by a survivor taking too much dog food.
Otherwise, the situation was calm: a few evacuees who left their house when the fire broke out Saturday evening sought comfort from their furry friends, some young people smoked cigarettes and cracked jokes, a mother attended to her four children and a handful of people sat in silence, staring into space with a look of disbelief in their eyes.
When lunch was served there was so much food to go around the Salvation Army had to persuade non-evacuees to fill their plates with large sandwiches and other pre-made sides purchased from nearby grocery stores.
“Are you sure you don’t want chips?” a volunteer asked.
The atmosphere became even calmer with the presence of Cal Fire Public Information Officer Doug Pittman, who told reporters that fire crews were optimistic about making progress on the blaze because of favorable conditions at the time.
As the old saying goes, however, the calm came before the storm and at about 2 p.m. the winds kicked up, exacerbating the moderately-sized fire into a destructive inferno.
The shrill buzz from smartphones rippled throughout the Senior Center’s large main room. Mandatory Evacuations for Chapman for Lower Lake Copsey Creek Subdivision and surrounding areas, they read.
They may as well have been a heads-up for the Red Cross and its volunteers because shortly after their registration tables became busy with dozens of evacuees displaying a wide range of emotions.
Some seniors, who were escorted by loved ones or law enforcement, looked confused, yet simultaneously with an odd sense of tranquility like everything was going to be fine.
“You lose your home; it’s devastating. You lose something of yourself. It’s your roots,” Susan Smith, a Copsey Creek resident of 17 years said. After evacuating her house the evening before, she returned to it Sunday morning only to be told that her neighborhood was under mandatory evacuation.
“Right now, my roots are not there. I feel displaced.”
She wasn’t certain about the status of her house, but since she had heard about the destruction of her neighbors’ homes, she wasn’t optimistic.
“I’m sure that mine will be one of them,” Smith added. “I just don’t think that it would be standing. I mean, there’s miracles but at this point the neighborhood [I lived in] since 1999. Many homes have already been lost.”
Also at the forefront of her mind was her son because he was one of the 16 patients evacuated from St. Helena Hospital in Clearlake. Upon hearing the news that he was sent to Lakeport’s Sutter Lakeside Hospital, she finally felt some relief.
A few hours later, though, that tide of peace for Smith and the nearly 100 other survivors receded. Due to shut downs commanded by Cal Fire, power went out indefinitely and at around 5 p.m., it forced the crowd to find shelter either at Kelseyville High School, the Seventh Day Adventist Church in Lakeport, or head to south to Middletown’s Twin Pine Casino.
And getting there wasn’t easy.
Since downtown Lower Lake was engulfed in the hellish flames, some refugees left Clearlake through State Highway 20, so the exodus had to take a journey around Clear Lake. In fact, getting to Middletown via that route took nearly two hours.
Others made the harrowing journey via Highway 29, such as Lorraine Capolungo.
“The most difficult thing was looking in the rear view mirror and seeing Lower Lake on fire — it was just black, black, black,” she said. “It was awful.”
The Clearlake resident eventually made it to Kelseyville High School. However, her diabetic cat, Gossamer, wasn’t allowed inside so she had to sleep with her in her truck parked in the adjacent lot.
“I even had two comforters under my sleeping bag and it still felt like I was on the bed of my truck,” she said, laughing. “Yeah, it wasn’t too wonderful.”
Despite prohibiting animals in the KHS gym, the Red Cross was still accommodating. On Monday, Red Cross volunteers gave her and other pet owners tents and overhead canopies. It even gave Capolungo a syringe so she can administer insulin to Gossamer, who needs a dose every 12 hours.
“Everybody’s been great,” she said, praising both the volunteers and her neighbors in the campground on the adjacent soccer fields. “Whenever we ask for something, it pretty much appears.”
Help also came from young people like Garr and his cousin Lizzy, both 12.
According to Garr’s mother, the two had spent the day taking care of the approximately 75 dogs and cats at the shelter, walking and feeding them in the 100-degree weather. They’ve also helped set up tents.
“I just feel bad for people who lost their house. Imagine if your house burned down and you had to drive away from [it], that would be sorta sad,” Garr said when asked why he wanted to help.
“You would want someone to comfort you, right? So we’re trying to be those nice people who are just good helpers, trying to make people comfortable here,” Lizzy added.
Regardless of their comfort, a lot of people didn’t have to stay long. By 3 p.m. on Tuesday, people residing east of State Highway 53 in Clearlake from Polk Avenue south to Cache Creek were allowed to return to their homes thanks to the armada of firefighters protecting them from destruction. Some left the way came in — by Lake Transit Authority busses, which also saved many lives during last year’s Valley and Rocky Fires.
On the other hand, those from Lower Lake are still waiting for Cal Fire’s permission to let them to go home and see the outcome of the natural roulette wheel known as a wildfire.
Those specifics are unknown to them, but what is known for at least 175 property owners their worlds have truly changed — their once sense of calm now burnt into the ashes of Lake County history.
