Families return to find homes destroyed by California’s Park Fire. ‘I’m just lost’

The Fischers spent Wednesday afternoon sifting through the remains of their incinerated Forest Ranch home, struggling to reach a consensus on what they would miss most.

For Linda, it was the house deck — now unrecognizable. Perched on the edge of the ridge, it once offered cinematic views of Upper Bidwell Park to the left and Lassen Peak to the right. Fifteen years ago, the couple decided to marry on this spot.

“That’s one of my favorite memories,” said Linda, 62, before breaking down into tears.

Just a few feet away from the deck, her husband, Dennis, reminisced about the garage where he had spent decades fixing up cars. His prized possessions — a 1946 Chevy and 1964 Chevrolet El Camino — were indistinguishable. Only the metal frames of the cars remained.

“That was my world,” Dennis, 65, said.

Only a few days have passed since the Park Fire blew through Forest Ranch, a town northeast of Chico. Hundreds of families like the Fischers were displaced for days as the blaze consumed roughly 350,000 acres, destroyed more than 360 structures and ballooned into California’s largest wildfire of the year.

Large portions of affected communities remain under evacuation orders, but most Forest Ranch residents have been able to return since Monday night. All through town were remnants of the devastation including ash-covered mailboxes, cars and streets.

While most homes had been saved, the surrounding scenery suffered considerable damage.

At the local Nopel Road post office, people regularly stopped by to pick up days-old mail. Residents expressed their appreciation for the firefighters who had protected their homes, yet felt sorrow for their neighbors who were not so lucky.

“I’m still in shock to see all the burn damage,” said Brianda Bastida, 30, whose home was spared. “How do you explain to your kids that everything is gone?”

Back on the Fischer property at the end of Peregrine Road, the couple was trying their best to move forward. The Fischers had scheduled an afternoon meeting with a contractor to discuss rebuilding, though they hoped federal funding for survivors would be issued.

While just a fragmented foundation and chimney of the three-story home remained, Dennis walked the contractor through the house. In what had been their front yard, Dennis pointed out a small pond where some dead koi and goldfish floated to the top.

On Monday night, Dennis said, about a half dozen fish were still alive. The couple bought a small aquarium and planned to transfer them. None were moving by Wednesday.

“We gave them a real good life,” Dennis said.

As Linda recalled the rooms in the house, she used her phone to compare the charred items to what once stood. At times, she pulled out ash-covered remnants and expressed her disbelief for how they had survived.

“We got a souvenir, babe,” yelled Linda, finding a green cup from their ziplining trip in Hawaii.

It wasn’t the only time the Fischers attempted to downplay their loss.

When they saw metaled aluminum, they suggested it could adorn their walls as art. At least the poison oak is gone now, Linda joked. The couple even had a running bet about the number of still-intact buffalo memorabilia they would discover. Dennis had collected figurines, sculptures, art and other items that resembled the animal for close to 30 years.

“I’ve always tried to not get too concerned about things I can’t do anything about,” Dennis said. “You have to focus on what you can do, and all we can do now is move forward.”

Still, they both admit, some personal items are irreplaceable.

A coat made by Dennis’ mom nearly 50 years was nowhere to found. His toy soldiers and trucks from his childhood had likely been reduced to dust. Linda’s computers and hard drives from years of teaching at Butte College were in pieces.

“There’s a lot of history lost here,” Dennis said.

Later in the afternoon, Linda walked back to the deck. There, she explained the couple had set up a bird feeder for the “40 to 50 birds” who lived in the thick forests around their home.

Then, she knelt down to wipe her tears with ash-covered hands.

“I’m just lost,” she said.