Wildfire a frequent and familiar foe in Lake County
Fire is a familiar foe in Lake County.
No other county in California has experienced wildfires more frequently in the past seven years, on such a stunning scale of both size and destruction, said state Sen. Mike McGuire, who represents the rural county with 68,000 residents.
“There is no other county in the Golden State that has received such a devastating blow when it comes to wildland disaster,” McGuire said Tuesday as he surveyed yet another disaster unfolding in his district. “The people of Lake County have suffered significantly.”
The 13,000-acre Pawnee fire east of Clear Lake is the first major wildland blaze this year. But it’s just the latest to explode in Lake County, where fires break out year after year, leaving scars on the landscape that grow back, only to burn again.
Many wildland fires, a few hundred acres or smaller, have burned in Lake County since 2012. But they are mostly forgotten, overshadowed by the big ones: The Valley, Rocky, Jerusalem, Clayton, Sulphur, Wye-Walker, Scotts and now the Pawnee.
Eight fires in seven years have devoured more than 200,000 acres of terrain and destroyed nearly 2,600 structures, mostly homes. The worst of the bunch, the 2015 Valley fire, killed five people.
“The concentration in one county is unheard of in modern California history. The epicenter of California’s new normal has been in Lake County,” McGuire said.
Most of those fires erupted later in summer or fall, traditionally the most dangerous part of fire season. This is June.
“The fire is burning like a September fire. That’s scary. How will (fires) burn in September?” said Northshore Fire Chief Jay Beristianos, whose fire department serves Spring Valley, where the Pawnee fire broke out Saturday evening.
There are many reasons why Lake County seems to burn so easily and often, mainly in the east and southeast, where fires tend to burn hotter and faster.
“We’ve had more wind events recently combined with an abundance of fuel,” said Greg Bertelli, Cal Fire division chief for Lake County. “Lake County has always been kind of known to have a lot of fires. Nature, fuel, location, longer summers, drier winters.”
Another reason comes from the region’s wind patterns. They line up at times with the hilly terrain and drainages, and in extreme heat and low humidity, create a bad combination for fire that pushes flames along, often deeper into remote areas that are hard to reach, Bertelli said.
But summers have been hotter and drier and fires are burning differently, firefighters said.
Lake County Fire Chief Willie Sapeta is chief of greater Lower Lake and Clearlake, where about one-third of the county’s residents live. Fires have burned 500 homes there in three years. He’s heard more people talking about leaving Lake County, unable to stay with what’s become an annual concern.
“We’ve seen a little bit of people decide not to remain in the district just because of that threat,” said Sapeta, who’s been with the department 30 years. He cited a few people who were burned out during the Valley fire, then moved to Lower Lake and lost their homes again in the Clayton fire.
But many choose to stay, just as people in earthquake, hurricane and tornado country remain.
“We have a beautiful place to live,” said Bertelli, a longtime resident in the hills between Kelseyville and Cobb. “It’s our home. That’s why people still live here. Family. Friends.”
“With that beauty comes the danger of living in a wildland area,” said Beristianos, another longtime Lake County resident. “People who come from out of here don’t realize what they’re walking into. There is no big municipal fire department. There is an inherent risk when you drive into the woods.”
Virgil Balsley, 94, sat on the back deck of his Spring Valley home Tuesday afternoon, calmly looking at the fire-scarred Walker Ridge starkly rising behind his porch. He bought the Cedar Way property in 1977 and spent seven years building the two-story home where he lived for more than three decades with his late wife, Evelyn.
He also built the neighborhood community center, laid concrete for many homes, and has spent decades fostering ties with his community. Though he’s lived through more fires than he can count, he refused to leave in the Pawnee fire, just as he won’t move from his beloved home to flee from potential future blazes.
He worked hard to build his life in Lake County, and he made a vow to his wife, who died a year and a half ago.
“This is the house my wife and I built,” he said as he sat near an ashtray holding partially smoked Pall Malls as the thermometer reached 90 degrees Tuesday. “We both made a promise we’d die here. I’m waiting. … There are a lot of things I want to do.”
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