Residents rush to escape an 'apocalypse' rolling through

Apr. 26—Last week, when it appeared the Hermits Peak Fire had been just about corralled, Randy Huston and his wife, Julianne, returned to the Rociada Valley home the fire had forced them to evacuate two weeks before.

"Thursday morning we moved in because we had the all clear," Huston said in a phone interview Monday. "We moved our two horses back in. By Thursday afternoon, there was a big plume of smoke. Thursday night about 10:30, we moved out."

That plume was the tail of the Calf Canyon Fire, which had kicked up Thursday and was running wild. Winds in the 70 mph range put the spurs to it Friday.

"The apocalypse rolled through the other day," Huston said. "On Friday, it blew through our country right up where our house is. I'm a Westerner, an outdoors guy, a cowboy. I know mountains. I have been around fires all my life, and I have never seen anything like this."

Peninsula of fire

By Saturday, the Calf Canyon Fire had linked up with what was left of the Hermits Peak blaze. By Sunday, the tag-team blazes had stampeded through 54,000 acres and forced thousands out of their homes.

"Our forest has way too much fuel in it," Huston said. "This wind was blowing so hard it was skipping fire around. There are 3,000 acres that are burned and then 400 acres that are not. You have a peninsula of fire that may be only a quarter mile wide, and it explodes out again to 6,000 acres just because of that wind."

Huston, 63, a rancher and a Western musician, grew up in the Las Vegas, New Mexico, area. He spends a lot of his time at his ranch, which is near Santa Rosa. But his home is on 15 acres in the Rociada Valley that he shares with his wife, two horses, three dogs and a couple of cats.

As of Sunday evening, he had heard that his house and barn there were still standing.

"I am not terribly scared, because we have a good fire break around it," said Huston. "I have a feeling we have a chance to make it through.

"But I feel a lot more of our country is going to burn. Usually, when a fire goes through it is done. But not this time. It is back tracking and picking up what it missed. It has left spots behind that are still hot and smoldering and they will take off and catch one of those unburned islands of ground on fire."

Horrible monster

When the Hermits Peak Fire, which started April 6 as a U.S. Forest Service prescribed burn, forced retired wildlife manager Cyn Palmer, 61, to leave her small home between Rociada and Pendaries, she took shelter at the home of a friend in Mora.

But then, like the Hustons, Palmer and her neighbors were allowed to return to their homes last week. The days are starting to run together, but she thinks that was Wednesday.

"We were jumping up and down and high-fiving and celebrating," she said. "By sunrise Friday, we were hastily throwing things in our cars and scooping up our pets. This horrible monster was coming at us, and we couldn't stop it."

And she couldn't take refuge again in Mora, because the Calf Canyon Fire was moving toward that town and residents were evacuating.

Now, Palmer is staying in a friend's small camper in a pasture just east of Las Vegas.

"It is very hard for me emotionally to hear about friends who have had total losses," she said Monday. "I am still waiting to hear about my place. I take nothing for granted."

What she has heard is that even if her home survives the fire, she will be unable to live in it for weeks or even months because electric power and water services have been destroyed by the blazes.

She knows for certain that the detrimental effects of the fires will endure long after the last embers are extinguished.

"There are a lot of people living in northern New Mexico who are land rich and cash poor and they are devastated by this event," she said. "While everyone whose property has been damaged or destroyed is experiencing tremendous trauma and grief, those who were already struggling financially are going to be hit exceptionally hard. Many were uninsured or under insured.

"Even those whose homes survive are now confronted with the difficult reality of living in an area that is severely impacted. Property values will likely plummet, insurance may be harder to obtain and the ability to sell properties may falter."

As a former wildlife manager, Palmer is also well aware that the effect on the forest, watershed and animal populations is "almost incomprehensible."

She said what keeps her going are the many acts of kindness she has experienced and witnessed.

"I am overwhelmed by the people who have reached out to me to say, 'I have a camper, I have a house, I have an extra room.' I am clinging to the love of my friends and neighbors and the generosity of others. That is what is holding this community together."

Pretty ominous

Even when the Hermits Peak Fire burned to within a half mile of his Sapello-area home, north of Las Vegas, Gary Morton, a veteran ranch hand and accomplished painter of cowboy life, stood fast. He refused to evacuate the 300 acres he oversees, the five horses pastured there, his home and his artwork.

And when he heard late last week that 91% of the Hermits Peak blaze had been contained, he felt vindicated.

"I had stopped being worried about it," he said Monday.

But on Friday, three State Police officers stopped by his place at three different times of the day to warn him about the Calf Canyon Fire.

"They said, 'We can't make you leave, but we sure wish you would,'" Morton said.

His gut instinct spoke up as well.

"It felt different on Friday," he said. "It felt pretty ominous. The prediction for Saturday was that the wind would be coming more directly out of the West and that would have brought the fire right at my place."

Morton decided he was going to load the truck and leave when he saw flames.

"I got my important papers, belt buckles I had won, my guns, a bottle of Pendleton whiskey and all my leather — saddles, bridles, all that kind of stuff."

And all the artwork that would fit. Morton's paintings are highly regarded depictions of the ranching life and the Western landscape. He has served as chairman of the New Mexico Arts Commission and as director of the state's Department of Cultural Affairs.

"I had to leave two big paintings in progress behind," he said. "There's a 40 by 60 of a Bell (Ranch) horse-drawn chuck wagon with the remuda behind it and a 24 by 36, also on the Bell, of a cowboy cutting some cattle out of a herd. They wouldn't fit in the truck. When I pulled out the gate, I could see flames higher up in the Sapello Valley."

Morton spent Friday night in his Ford F-250 truck at Storrie Lake, listening to the wind blow. He moved to a motel in Las Vegas on Saturday.

He said the fire is within a mile or two of his house, but his place is still safe and a "wonderful neighbor" who stayed is feeding the horses.

"A lot of people have lost their homes," he said Monday. "But this morning I stepped out of the hotel before daylight, and I could smell rain. The mountains to the northwest were socked in with clouds. I remain hopeful and trust in God."