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| For some reason a raging wildfire ripped through the Valleyford Cemetery, but did not burn the flags. |
Valleyford On Fire!
The Yale Road Fire and the
Community of Farmers That Saved a Town
Tammy Marshall
I stood on a gravel road facing a
ravine leading to majestic Valleyford’s California Creek. Behind the southside
of the steep drop off lay my property and behind that a giant plume of smoke.
My cellphone rang. On the other end a friend called to ask if I was OK and had
heard there was a fire out there. My words jumbled into the phone. The garbling
sounds that came out of my mouth made no sense. On either side of me listening
to my insane jargon, stood my neighbors who I rarely see who were probably
thinking, “Tammy’s at a loss for words? Wow, things must really be bad.”
I finally managed to say, “This is
really bad. This isn’t good. No, I’m not OK.”
Less than an hour prior my husband,
5-year-old daughter and I were traveling back from Rathdrum to rehome a cat
that had belonged to his father who passed away the week before. The city of
Rathdrum, ID sits a little over 30 miles northeast of the tiny town of
Valleyford. The quaint town stretches across 12 miles of mostly farmland and
hosts a little over 1,000 residents of mostly farmers, small producers, and
country folk. For reference sake, let me say that I stand with one foot on
either side of small producer and weird country bumpkin.
Valleyford sits just southeast of
Spokane, Wash. and just south of Spokane Valley, Wash. about 10 miles.
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| This apple tree that sits just north of Stoughton shows where the fire jumped the road and had it not been for diligent farmers and firefighters could have moved north and destroyed several homes. |
Driving back from Rathdrum, I could see
my husband still wore that deep sad look that can only come from a combination
of grief, shock, and a still-recent painful event.
I squeezed his hand to signal that I
was there for him. My cell phone rang. It was my neighbor. “Tammy, are you
home?”
“No, we haven’t been home all week.
We’ve been dealing with my father-in-law’s death. We had a funeral to plan and
estate to settle.”
“Tammy there’s a fire. It’s headed our
way. I’m not evacuating yet, but I’m in my car ready to go.”
I hung up the phone and looked out the
driver’s window. I could see a plume of smoke in the horizon southwest of me.
“This couldn’t be headed towards my
house? My husband’s dad just died. My luck couldn’t be that bad,” I thought.
When we pulled into my driveway, we could see the cloud of smoke blanket the sky. My surroundings grew dark
and looked like evening time although it wasn’t even 4 p.m. My husband let us
out then hopped back into the car, “I want to go see where the fire is,” he
said then abruptly left.
I nodded then proceeded to follow my
usual routine of going inside to let the dogs out while my 5-year-old
investigated for eggs in the chicken coop.
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| My view from the ravine where we evacuated. |
The sky became darker and the cloud of
smoke grew larger. A mixture of shock between the recent loss of a family
member and this current crisis, I followed my routine. I let my dogs out and
went out into the backyard to check my garden for any newly ripened vegetables.
Finally though, the sound of fire shook me out of my
calm confused state.
I come from a long line of strong women. Some were logger
wives, farm wives, or like me the daughter of a hard-as-nails nurse who spent
40 years serving sick people at Sacred Heart Medical Center in Spokane. I
wouldn’t know how to wring my hands and bawl if someone showed me.
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| Whether this pole was replaced after the windstorm in 2015 or the recent fire, it does show how destructive fire can be. |
The week prior when I got the call that
my father-in-law was at the CICU or Cardiac Intensive Care Unit I hung up and
jumped in my vehicle and headed straight to the hospital that has been such an
important part of my life. Born there, fed there, raised by one of the
employees of this facility; I knew I was about to see someone take their last
breath there. The last text read that they had performed CPR on my
father-in-law for the third time. The daughter of a nurse and a professional rescuer
myself, I knew things were not looking good.
Sitting across from my husband in the
waiting room that only an hour before held a dozen or more people praying for a
miracle, the news came that he was gone and I could see the look of anger and
sadness switch to that of love then back to anger. Suddenly I recalled one time
asking my dedicated nurse mother if she ever saw someone die. “Yes,” she
replied.
“What do you do when someone dies?” I
said with the innocence of a curious child.
“You just accept it and do your job,”
she stated.
There I was across from my husband
looking into his shocked brown eyes that flickered between emotions. I could
feel the strong women I am descended from standing behind me and telling me
that I needed to accept this moment and go to work because my husband couldn’t
right now.
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| One of the houses that burnt down. |
Side-by-side my ancestors, I imagined
the Sisters of Providence who founded SHMC and worked and managed the hospital
for much of my mother’s time there, holding my grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s
hands as they encouraged me to go forth and help my grief-stricken husband.
The next week and the week before the
Yale Road Fire my focus became my husband and laying to rest his father who
died unexpectedly.
Normally during this time of the year I’m
hyperaware about the potential for wildfire. I pay attention to the winds, make
a green barrier around my house, and remove flammable debris. This past week
though had been spent making funeral plans. This Sunday, Aug. 21 the day after
the funeral for my husband’s father, was supposed to be a recovery day. Quiet
and calm as we found a place for his pets and sank back into our country home
before figuring out how to do life with one less person in the world who loved
us, we drove home.
Less than an hour later life was
anything but calm. I heard the wildfire closing in. It sounded like a
combination of the put put of an old engine and the slow banging of a timpani
drum. Going vroom vroom, I could hear the fire approaching.
Across the street at my neighbors,
quiet became a quagmire as they ran in the house to grab plastic containers of
household goods and precious belongings. I yelled across the street, “Are we
evacuating?”
“Yes Tammy we are evacuating,” someone
replied.
I turned around to gather a few things,
my daughter and went to get in my car and realized my car wasn’t here. We had
left our other vehicle at my husband’s brother’s and my car was now being used
by my husband to investigate the fire.
I called his cell phone about 10 times
with no answer. Finally I got through, “Get home now! I don’t have a car to get
out of here!”
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| One of many signs created by thankful citizens of Valleyford. |
While I waited for him to return I went
inside to grab a few clothes and toiletries. On the way out I managed to grab
my out-of-print copy of Warrior of the Mist: A Biography of Qualchan Chief
Owhi’s Son. The book tells of the great Yakama warrior Qualchan and his
fight against the white settlers and Colonel George Wright in the 19th century. He died in
September of 1858 by hanging. This incident took place very close to my home
and I grew up next to what is called the Hangman Valley. Being that Qualchan
died so near my house has always caused me to have an intense interest with the
fallen warrior. It took me months to find this book. I didn’t want to lose it.
Now the Hangman Valley near Valleyford named after the way he died vs. who he
was, currently sprouted flames and made the haunting sound that is wildfire.
My husband returned and we got the dogs
and climbed in and took off leaving behind the cats and the chickens.
Now on the road north of the ravine at
the bottom of my property I stood jumbling my words while trying to tell
someone about the wildfire.
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| This was what I saw from my house the day the fire started. |
My neighbors and I all looked towards
our houses now backlit by plumes of smoke. The flames approached and I thought
that this was it. My house would soon be rubble. My 5-year-old sat in the back
seat and because I hadn’t yet figured out how to get the child locks on, kept
opening it and saying she wanted to stand near her mama. I kept telling her no
and finally walked to the car to keep her from opening the door. I looked ahead
at the gravel road that stretched in front of me and saw a large combine coming
my direction.
Acclimating to rural life in Valleyford
includes navigating around combines. During the parts of the year the combines
are out plowing the fields, I plan on an extra 15 minutes into town in case I
get stuck behind a tractor.
This time was different. Although still
somewhat slow, I could tell this giant farm machine was running at full speed
and in a hurry. I yelled at my daughter that she better not open the door.
Thankfully she listened as I ducked behind the car just in time to get out of
the way of the large metal spirals that went right past my head.
The farmers worked side-by-side the
firefighters making plow lines, putting fires out with shovels and axes. Able
townspeople went to the many small farms that spot the countryside to help load
up horses, pigs and sheep in trailers to evacuate.
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| The fire line |
Despite saving efforts, many were not
so lucky as to get their livestock out. One family lost 400 head of sheep. More
than 6,800 acres caught fire in what is now referred to as the Yale Road Fire.
A broken branch colliding with a power
line is what sparked the great blaze that consumed much of Rock Canyon and
Qualchan’s Hangman Valley. The fire started in Spangle and moved so fast
it spread quickly into Valleyford and went all the way up to Stoughton Rd.
threatening many homes and farms in the area. Ten homes were lost in the fire.
It spread so quickly that many didn’t have time to get anything out of their
house and were left with nothing.
We were Level 3 evacuated twice. Level
3 evacuation means “Get out now!” The second Level 3 evacuation came the next
day when the canyon behind my house caught fire. During the second evacuation
we managed to get our cat and baby chickens along with our dogs and take them
to the fairgrounds where emergency shelter had been set up for animals impacted
by the fire.
On the Sunday the fire began, when my
husband finally convinced me to leave the ravine facing my house, returning to
the vehicle I got in wearing the same face he had been wearing the last week.
While nothing can replace the loss of a family member, the fear that I was
about to lose my childhood home- the one that my dad spent 40 years of his life
building on, welding, caretaking-sank into my soul.
Driving away from the fire that somehow
steered away from my home and was now just east, I thought about what it meant
to be strong in the face of disaster. I thought about the combines I saw
heading into the fire. I looked up at the sky and saw a group of small planes
headed toward the flames. We came up with the idea to go back to our house and
try and get more belongings. Headed down Stoughton, just before the small
forest that signaled we were almost home, I witnessed a plane dump fire
retardant on a field I normally see on my morning runs as the home of a couple
horses that spend most days gnawing on grass and meandering around in. Now the
horses were no-where in sight and the field of mostly alfalfa now grew smoke
and flames.
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| The Valleyford Cemetery after the fire. |
My husband turned us around and dropped
us off at the Valleyford Church, said he was headed back and pulled out of the
driveway. Standing at the church with a group of stunned onlookers the large
747 aerial fire fighter planes flew above me in the skies and toward the giant
fire. The street of Madison, the main strip, normally quiet now ran like a
freeway as trucks with horse trailers and boats attached moved out of the fire
zone.
I lived through the Hangman Fire of
1987. I remember the canyon burning. Like the Yale Road Fire, homes were lost.
This fire somehow seemed different. Maybe because I wore the innocent goggles
of childhood and I was now experiencing wildfire as an adult, I still have
never seen a fire come so close to my town. This time I saw what is referred to as a fire tornado. It's as horrible as it sounds. The most evil destructive natural thing I have ever witnessed.
Although strong on the outside, during this time I was
very aware that if I didn’t watch myself it could very easily be me in the
Emergency Room. I have a disease called Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome. There is very
little information on this disease, but they do know that stress can trigger an
episode. I spent weeks barely sleeping, not watching my diet (except for no
wheat or lentils), and not taking my enzymes (Co-Q10, L-Carnitine, Creatine).
For me, that’s a recipe for an Emergency Room visit. Thankfully I have people
in my life who care enough to call. Care enough to call and ask me if I was
taking care of myself during this stressful time. I can’t thank you enough
friends and family. Perhaps you don’t know it, but you saved me from the
trouble an Emergency Room visit and being knocked off my feet brings.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes
you stronger. I now know that the tough women that came before me are right
there standing behind me keeping me strong. I also know that I live in a
community that when faced with adversity come together. I told my panicked
daughter, traumatized by the possibility that she may lose her home, that we
live in a world of helpers and superheroes; many in the shape of firefighters
that are here to protect us from the devastation that is wildfire. This quieted
her non-stop distraught crying. To my awe, I also now know that in my
community, that farmers don’t simply work 12-16 hour days to keep us fed. When
disaster strikes, they are and were willing to jump into the flames to save all
of us from devastation. I know many of the farmers out here are third and
fourth generation. I imagine that when this fire struck, the brave farmers-no
longer here but in spirit-stood behind them as they worked to put out the
flames. During this historic fire, we were firefighter strong and farmer
strong.
Donations can be accepted at the
American Red Cross 315 W. Nora Ave. Spokane, Wash. 509.326.3330; Cash donations
at Banner Bank 2N. First St., Rockford, Wash. 509.892.4410.; Non-perishable
food at Valleyford Community Church 13015 S. Madison Rd., Valleyford, Wash. 99036
#860.710.8252
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