A rare lightning storm started the devastating River Fire.

When disasters converge, it’s full-on crisis mode of biblical proportions. 

Good afternoon.

When I was awoken in the middle of a restless sleep on Saturday night, I was already worried about the potential for wildfire. I’d gone to sleep with the windows and sliding doors open to mitigate the heat, and the weather forecast called for “fast-moving thunderstorms.” But I had no idea just how fast, until wind gusted through the open windows rattling the entire house, and lightning illuminated the entire sky. 

It was a scene straight out of a disaster movie—not a pandemic movie (that’s a different disaster movie we were living in, the one from a week ago), but the spooky sky and howling winds and booming thunder were perfectly cinematic. 

When I woke up Sunday morning, I couldn’t yet detect any haze in the sky. I checked for news from Cal Fire, and saw the River Fire had ignited near Toro Peak around 3am, and as of 7am, firefighters had the five-acre fire 10-percent contained; there were no evacuations and no structures threatened. It seemed like maybe we’d dodged the worst. 

But today, roughly 36 hours later, the fire has consumed nearly 3,000 acres and is threatening 1,500 houses. Neighborhoods off River Road and Highway 68, on either side of the fire, have evacuation advisories and orders in effect.  

I’ve covered a few wildfires, but only one pandemic. It’s interesting to watch our responses to both crises, cases of nature seeming to thumb its nose at humans. The firefighting response has been swift, orders on evacuations and evacuation advisories (a heads up for residents that an all-out evacuation may be coming) have been clearly communicated. There’s a determination to protect human life and property, one that transcends politics. 

That’s not to say leadership is perfect. Much of the problem of wildfires we owe to decades of failed policy when it comes to forest management, and land-use decisions to develop communities in wild places; there’s a policy debate about how to address the multifaceted threats of climate change (something else we could’ve controlled, but didn’t); and most notoriously, failures by power utility company PG&E to maintain a safe system. (Expect more rolling blackouts in the coming days, a statewide effort to keep the system from overload.)

In some ways, addressing a wildfire seems a lot more straightforward than addressing a pandemic—but both crises require leadership, and both are worse when we are unprepared. As Gov. Gavin Newsom said in a press briefing today, reflecting on this moment of crisis, “I am not pleased with what’s happened. You shouldn’t be pleased with the moment that we’re in in the state of California.”

Thousands of fires have started in California this year, and more than 11,200 Californians have died from Covid-19. These are both disasters of biblical proportion.  

But these seem to be the times we are living in, where one disaster follows another, on a scale that feels biblical. One person I spoke to this morning told me she’s expecting a plague of locusts tomorrow. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised. 

Meanwhile, stay safe out there.  

-Sara Rubin, editor, sara@mcweekly.com