(Mark Boster / LAT)
Washington Post: Drawn to The Flame
Ash is falling like rain. It’s 3 p.m. and the sun burns a crimson circle through a gray nimbus. The mountain glows like a volcano about to erupt.
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As a wall of flame explodes skyward along the scrub-covered spine of the ridge, Bagala — collapsed in a wheelbarrow as if it were an easy chair — thinks about how close he came to missing this one. He happened to be filling in for a buddy on what would have been his day off when the call came in.
The buddy whose shift he took, “he’s not too happy right now,” Bagala says. Every firefighter wants to be in the fire zone.
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The reserve will be a nightmare to defend. Only a single winding, uneven dirt road provides access to a group of hacienda-style houses nestled at the base of some mountains, leaving few options for beating a hasty retreat. Unlike in Stevenson Ranch, there is no apron of moist greenery around the buildings, just a single hydrant and a swimming pool.
After a quick triage, the firefighters set about cutting down what trees they can. The plan here is to create a buffer around the structures and to use the pool water if necessary. If the fire blows through, they will take refuge in one of the buildings, stay close to the floor and hope it doesn’t catch fire.
It’s little wonder that some firebugs turn out to be the very people who are supposed to be stopping the fires. Like in a John Woo film, the heroes and villains are just two sides of the same coin.
