Evacuees! It's a Long Story....

On Saturday, August 21, 2021, we decided to make the trip down to the Bay Area from South Lake Tahoe for a family birthday party in El Cerrito. It had been getting pretty smoky from the Dixie fire, and now there was talk of a new one, called Caldor. By the morning, our usual and shorter route on Hwy. 50 was reported closed, so we had to opt for Interstate 80, which would add an hour or so to our drive. I hated that idea, since I still hadn't quite recovered from doing most of the driving on the 39 day road trip we took in June and July. Still, Doug's kids seemed genuinely excited to have us come, so we packed our bags, thinking we would be back in two days.

With the news of the highway closure, and the ominous look of the sky and atmosphere turned eerily a dark red by the smoke over the sun, we packed a few extra things. People posted items that you should pack in a "go-bag", that you would leave by the front door, in case of evacuation. Ours included our briefcase containing important papers, our big bag of pills and vitamins, and all of our chargers, phones and laptops, just in case. 

At the party we kept vowing that we would be going back home on Monday, but we were looking forward to staying with his daughter Grace for the two nights and getting in some good visits with the family. We had just about gotten used to the AQI (air quality index) from the smoke to be at 250 or so, and it was quite a treat to look out at the San Francisco Bay and realize that I was seeing fog rather than smoke. Besides, our raspy sounding voices were noticeable to everyone, and we should maybe give our lungs a break.

My sister Lorraine asked if we'd like to spend a couple of days in Lafayette with her and her husband, and I jumped at the chance to have a nice long visit with my sister. She'd had an awful lot of company lately, including my daughter and her new baby, but she encouraged us to come. Her comfy bed and nice leisurely breakfasts in the morning, with the four of us reading the Wall Street Journal and the SF Chronicle together sounded relaxing. We started listening for alerts about the spreading Caldor fire by installing the app for a Reno news station on my phone, and we all gathered around the TV for news of the debacle in Afghanistan. 

Doug and I decided to use our time well since we were in the Bay Area. The former store that he had in Berkeley had been vacant for about 5 months, so we went over with gardening tools borrowed from Lorraine and tackled the yard. I pruned the rose bushes and Doug raked up about 6 bags of huge maple leaves.

The next day we continued our project, and bought some succulents and gazanias for the window boxes on the sunny side, and some begonias for the other side that has more shade. Now it looks more rentable.

Things weren't looking good for poor Tahoe though. The AQI was reported at about 450, and the blaze was creeping toward Echo summit and had jumped Hwy 50. We sat with teary eyes as we saw videos of the area of the road when you have what the reporter called an "Aha!" moment. Normally you could suddenly see beautiful Lake Tahoe, but now smoke prevented that. Fire had fallen down into the valley below and was causing what they called "spot fires" in Christmas Valley, where some of our friends live.  Doug was asked if we would like to stay in my sister's place at Bodega Bay for a few days, and we of course, said "Yes!" We have many happy memories there, one of which Doug proposed to me, and I said "Yes!". 

 

Our time there was idyllic, the sea air, going to see the Bodega Head, looking for possible whales passing by,..... but we felt like we were cheating. Some evacuees where sleeping in Walmart parking lots, for heaven sake, and here we were going out to lunch at the Main Street Grill in Guerneville. We had driven to Guerneville to shop at the Safeway, since it was cheaper than the small, but cute store around Bodega Bay, and we stocked up for our stay.

On Sunday we went to mass at St. Theresa's church right in the town of Bodega, where "The Birds" was filmed. The schoolhouse that's in the movie is right around the block. We went for a little ride around the area afterward,  in denial about what could be happening up in Tahoe.

Thinking we might be away from Tahoe for quite awhile, we tried to forward our mail to El Cerrito, but they wouldn't let us do it online. It said you had to come in person. The phone line to the post office just rang, with no message tape. They were closed. When we looked online, it said that Tahoe mail had all been forwarded to Carson City, NV. We had also left our California recall ballots on our coffee table in Tahoe, so we called the election office and had them send another ballot to El Cerrito, in case we're still there.

Everything's becoming so unsettling. We're getting tired of living out of suitcases now, after not quite getting over our big trip across country to see my new granddaughter. This is getting old now. We'd like to be in our own bed, but we wonder if we'll be seeing our nice, king-sized one again. I worry about all the plants and trees I've planted, and if the sprinkler system has been left on to keep them alive.

We've put together an entire 500 piece jigsaw puzzle and watched every news piece that we could find about the Caldor fire and the poor people in Afghanistan. After hearing that South Lake Tahoe is under mandatory evacuation, we have decided that we should leave Bodega and head for Richmond to my house that is rented, but we have access to the basement apartment, where son John lives. News of the fire getting close to our area is making this very real now. Folks have been calling and emailing us to make sure we're okay. One friend said "You must be in agony, worrying about your home." We looked at each other and decided that there wasn't anything there that we couldn't replace, and our "agony level" was at about 2. On the way there, we stopped at a Kohl's store to add on to our meager wardrobe, which is short of underwear and socks, and t-shirts, and pants, since we weren't planning on such a long trip.

Living back at the old house is a strange thing, since, for one thing, we're staying under a family of five that are living above us in the main part of the house, and we can hear them clomping around, and going up and down stairs.

I'm down in a room that has a lot of history. I never lived here myself, but now I know what all the folks that did, heard from our family living above them.

For one thing, when Jennie took tap-dance lessons at six years old, she used to practice her "shuffle-ball-changes" on the wooden floor in the front hall. I imagine Nana, Walt's Godmother, who we took care of, loved to hear that. She never complained though.

I've been thinking of all the different people that I rented this room to to make some extra money. So many of them have passed on, but memories of them have been coming back to me. There was Nana, who actually died here, in her hospital bed. When I came into her room, I'd say, "Hi Butterscotch Sundae!" since she loved them so much, and if I anticipated her wishes, she'd say, "You're just like Johnny at the rathole!"

My mother-in-law, Tutu, said her prayers from her little Catholic book, told us jokes, dressed up each day with her muu-muu, with matching jewelry and shoes, and entertained and counseled my son Lucas and his friends. She sat in her chair and washed our dog Tessa's face tenderly each day with a washcloth. Tessa adored her.

For about a year, I rented to a stroke patient, a former customer of mine at Baker's Square, who heard about how I had been taking care of Walt, my husband, who also had a stroke. We sort of adopted him into the family, even taking him with us on little vacations. He was Polish, and when we took him to Costco he was astonished to see the array of products, remembering the lack he experienced when he was younger in Poland.

Even Doug's son Matt came to live with us with his two young daughters when he was going through a messy divorce. By this time, both of my kids had moved out, and it was fun to have the grandchildren in the house, doing artwork and learning to play the piano.

Now here we were, ourselves. We sleep well here, almost too well. My early alarms go off on my phone, and then we keep on sleeping until 9:30 or even 10, not having a real reason to get up. Voices are heard upstairs, people are coming down the stairs outside our door to do their laundry, a cat meows, and the familiar train whistle blows in the distance. We are starting to feel as if we might be a little depressed. We have friends and family close by, and have visited with them some, but just busy ourselves during the day buying things we need to make ourselves comfortable. It's frustrating that there's no wi-fi here, but John instructed me how to use my phone to get on a Personal Hotspot, and then I could hook my laptop up to that, and we could watch movies on Netflix. I even found we could watch some news on Pluto TV on the computer. We feel desperate for news, looking constantly for how high the air quality numbers are, feeling sad for the folks that will be returning to a pile of cinders where their home once was. Then it's time to sleep again.

Our big project on Labor Day was to make ourselves chicken soup in the crockpot. Doug did his usual job as sous chef, and after I collected some herbs and spices from Grace for seasoning, it was delicious. We left 2 chicken breasts in the bottom of the pot, whole, so we would be able to make chicken sandwiches with them later. Pretty crafty, I think.

Next day we hear that Tahoe residents are being changed to an evacuation warning, not mandatory, and are able to return home. We love that idea, but hem and haw about whether we should go, since the air quality is still in the 200's. Deciding to go for it, we packed up our bags and all of our food, including the leftover soup in a plastic container, cleaned up our room and left town. We both felt anxious and shaky, and I felt nervous driving at first. They say that being depressed can contribute to that.

Before leaving, we put in our destination on GPS, knowing that our usual Hwy 50 would be closed, and the route we'd take would be a little longer on Hwy 80..... but at around Sacramento, the British lady's voice on our GPS announced that "because of a road closure ahead, your route has been changed". Doug looked and saw that the new route had us traveling much further, all the way over to Reno and then Carson City, and then back up to Tahoe. Feeling even more discombobulated at this news of another 2 hours added on to our drive, we tried to find out if maybe the fire had jumped over to the northern side of the lake and closed the road there too. Nothing was on the news on the car radio, and wouldn't you know it? Google wouldn't come up on our phone! We decided to press on, and try our original way, and if there was actually a road block we would have to obey. About 1/3 of the vehicles on the road were Highway Patrol cars or emergency vehicles, or fire trucks, which was pretty disconcerting. We saw a sign at an exit for a Highway Patrol office, but it had closed 3 minutes before. 

Finally, we came to Truckee, and then finding the turn-off for South Lake Tahoe, we took it. No signs of road closures. Hallelujah! Soon after that we saw the beautiful lake. The sky was pretty clear, but smelled smoky. We could see across, but the south shore was enveloped in smoke.

The sun was starting to set and was so beautiful (smoke actually makes for gorgeous sunsets), we stopped to take a picture just before we got to Zephyr Cove. Finally driving through town at Stateline, we saw a whole army of firefighters walking past a casino. I wish I would have had the presence of mind to clap my hands out the window or honk my horn in thanks for all they've done. 

Driving through the familiar gates of our condo, we honked our arrival, but no one heard us. I think there are only a handful that have moved back in since yesterday. It's eerily quiet, as we walk down our path and discover that thankfully the sprinkling system had never been turned off. We had been worried that all the plants and trees that I had planted would be dried up. But no. They had some ashes on their leaves, but most were pretty healthy, also thanks to a neighbor who watered for me as long as she stayed. First thing I did was fill the blue water bowl I leave outside for the birds and other animals. It was pretty ashy too, and who knows? One of those bears we've been hearing about that are roaming around might want to quench his thirst.

Next thing was to light our electric fireplace and sit in our comfy mission style recliners and give thanks for our nice cozy condo to live in. We both notice the blue feeling leaving us.

On the website, Eastern Sierra Fire and Ice, they had a reporter showing a map of what he called the Perfect Storm that saved South Lake Tahoe. When the fire started raging over Hwy 50 at Echo Summit, he said huge "perpendicular" winds threw fire over Christmas Valley, where there are a lot of homes, and on to the Western slope of the Sierra, heading toward Heavenly Valley, and only showering Christmas Valley with spot fires that could be handled. The area is still under evacuation, but he called this "the Christmas Valley Miracle". We'll take that. We felt that some of our prayers have been answered.

The next morning, I got up to feed my birds, squirrels and chipmunks some nuts and seeds. Only had one taker of each, but word will get out that I'm back, I'm sure. I doused all the plants with extra water from the hose, while wearing a face mask, for the smoke. The fire is only 50% contained, and hopefully firefighters can extinguish it completely. There is a chance that we might have to evacuate again, but for now, life is good.

Tahoe Wildlife

This title could be a little misleading. It's not about the wild life that we lead here at  South Lake Tahoe. No, we're actually pretty calm and predictable. The story is just about the critters that we come across right outside our front door.

There's been talk of a big bear that comes around many times a week, that folks are starting to call "Bob". We haven't seen Bob ourselves, but we hear he's pretty large, and lumbers along. He seems to know when garbage day is, since he makes sure to check out the garbage enclosures the night before, opens the gate with the handle and then lifts the heavy lid on the bin with ease.

Our most exciting story, was when a black bear probably drank all the water from a bowl we have outside our front door two nights in a row. The missing water was first noted one morning when our neighbor's fence had been knocked down the night before, and the next day, it was reported that a bear had torn off a plank from the garbage enclosure. He must have worked up a thirst after all that work, and knew he could come by for a drink afterward. When I told my husband about all this, he said, "What?? I've been coming in and sitting in my recliner chair right by the door the last few nights. He was about 6 feet from my head! I think you'd better get rid of that water bowl, or at least move it!"

I opted for moving it, since I've been providing water for all the smaller critters for the last 5 or 6 years, and I think they depend on me.

The blue glass bowl was repositioned farther away, over behind a bush, and I placed a stone next to it so that the birds and chipmunks would have something to hop up on to get a drink. I watched and worried every day to see if anyone noticed the change. I sat and read quietly in my zero-gravity chair, looking around the edge of my book to see if I had any takers. I even put extra bird seed close by, which would get eaten, but there were no takers for a drink afterward. For a few days, the water level never went down, and finally Doug told me it would be okay if I put the bowl a little more out in the open. Soon after, it was discovered again, not only for refreshment, but for lovely baths!

The bathers, are the occasional American Robin, but two or three Brewer's Blackbirds from the flock that frequents our yard are appreciating a dip at the same time. One gets in and flaps around while the other two politely sit on the edge awaiting their turn.

Every morning, I go out with a copper cup that's meant for a Moscow Mule cocktail, filled 2/3 full with birdseed, and then topped off with shelled sunflower seeds and peanuts. I don't want a bunch of shells littering our forest floor, and I think the little animals appreciate the little effort they have to put out to get a nice buffet. Later on, I'll add a few grapes that have past their prime or some crusts of bread. I think they'll all be missing me when we go back down to Palm Springs in the end of October. A neighbor says that she fills the water bowl during the winter if she sees it getting low.

The squirrels are knocking down an abundant amount of pine cones from the Ponderosa pines lately. Someone told us that this means that we'll have an early winter or a big one. One of the two. They chew them off from way up high, and the immature cones drop down like bombs, with a big "thud" making you wonder if you should be wearing a bicycle helmet along with your mask. Then, the squirrel runs down the tree and very conscientiously chews off bits that are called scales, leaving them in a mess all over the ground, and eating up the seeds that are underneath. Only something like a corn cob is left on the ground. The more mature pine cones, that are all opened up, with their scales all flailed out,  are left alone by the squirrels. I just noticed the difference this year, since I have so much time on my hands, I suppose. 

Doug laughs that I identify the squirrels as babies, teenagers, and adults. But I keep watching. These brown squirrels, called Douglas, or Chickarees, seem to first appear as small as chipmunks, squealing like birds, and mostly brown, with golden bellies. As they age, to the "teenage" years, they start getting darker strips on their sides, and grow larger. The babies are fearless, and don't mind coming close to me, but the teenagers seem to grow more skittish, undoubtedly having had some experiences with danger. 

I used to think that the smaller brown squirrels were the younger grey squirrels, but no.

The Grey Squirrels are much larger, with deer-like faces, longer ears, and have huge, fluffy tails. As they grow older, they grow more salt and pepper grey. They climb down the trees in the morning to see what I've provided for breakfast. 

Right now, in the beginning of September, I'm starting to think that both of the species don't appreciate my thoughtfulness so much, since they have been digging around many of the plants that I have planted recently. I always say that they think that there's a new squirrel in town that has hidden a nut, but a friend told me that they just like to chew on the roots of my plants. Still though, I'm just glad that they aren't voles, like we had a few years ago, tunneling around and killing the plants. Some may hate them, but I still love watching my squirrels.

The chipmunks have been just darling lately, baby ones I'm sure, coming around in pairs of two, just like "Chip and Dale" from the old cartoons. They skitter around so quickly, from a bush, across the path, and under the steps, that I can hardly point them out to Doug in time, before they are gone again. Even the older ones, with their striped backs, (they all have them from birth), are so quick and wary, jump up to take a drink from my blue bowl. I'm delighted to provide for them.

The species of birds are many, from the big flock of Brewer's Blackbirds that I mentioned, to the Stellar Jays and their cacophony that we hear telling their friends that breakfast is served each morning. Later on in the day, a couple of mourning doves will show themselves, sometimes defending what they believe is their territory, making us think that their reputation for being so peaceful is in jeopardy. A few American Robins hang around, not necessarily interested in my bird seeds, but I think more concentrating on the worms that might be attracted to our automatic watering system. Most of them have orangish-red breasts, and some have speckled ones. I thought those were maybe the females, not being as flashy, but I've read that they are the juveniles.

Notably louder, we have huge crows, that swoop over our heads near the pool so low that we can hear their wings flap. Then they go up high in the pines and caw to each other or make a strange gurgling sound, we think is to attract a mate. There are even a few even larger ravens, that march around on the ground, almost as big as turkeys.

Another special bird is the Northern Flicker. My ears are getting so attuned to the calls of the birds, that I joke that I may have been one once. The other day I was inside, and heard a different birdcall, and looked out to see a big bird on the side of a tree, pecking at it. It didn't have a red head like some of the woodpeckers up here do,  just a little bit on it's cheeks, and it was tan and kind of speckled. When it took off flying it had a beautiful salmon color under it's wings. I ran for my trusty bird book, and found it! A Flicker! Today, I found that online I could hear samples of this bird's call, so I did a funny thing and brought my computer outside and played a couple of them loudly. The other birds looked shocked and took off, but on about the third try, a Flicker swooped over to land on the side of one of the Ponderosa pines! Then he hopped down to the ground and pecked awhile. He didn't seem very interested in hearing any more of my calls, so maybe it was just a coincidence. 

For the last two years, a pair of Chickadees have made their nest in a knot hole in the trim above our condo. They're winning the award for my favorite flock of birds. They fly down to a small pine tree out front, and sometimes come close to me when I'm walking by, or they hop around near by while I'm gardening, seeming rather curious and friendly. Their chirp sounds like a sort of smooching, kissing sound. I try to make that sound when I come out in the morning and every so often one flies down to me.

Their heads look like they're wearing little bicycle helmets, and sometimes the peanuts they try to pick up and fly away with, look half the size of their little round body.

A couple of months some of the neighbors were delighted that a mallard duck had made a nest, but were worried that she made her nest full of feathers in a precarious place, down low in a juniper bush. There were three eggs in there, and we all looked forward to when the little ducklings would be following their mother around the condo complex. Our hopes were dashed one day, when it looked like a coyote had found the nest. All that was left were the shells amongst her soft feathers, and Mama was walking around quacking, looking forlorn.

A few days later, Mama duck had taken to swimming in the pool, which seemed okay, since it was closed to us due to the pandemic. We were entertained by her dramatic landings in the water, and were happy that she had a spa, (or pond), to recover from her loss. She'd hang out at the edge, and eventually surprised us by depositing a large egg right there on the cement.... and leaving it. The neighbors all talked about how to help her, all wearing our masks and socially distancing, of course. We worried that the abandoned egg would get too cold, since the temps were going to drop that night. Finally, the maintenance guy checked it out closer and found it to be cracked. The poor thing was unceremoniously deposited in the garbage bin. Mama never showed up again.

Well, it looks like from my ramblings that I still have a lot of time on my hands. I've told you about everything wild here so far. Guess I'd better go outside again to see what's up.