Morning Commute

I got up this morning, and got ready as usual to go to work. Even though I'd read about the "Little T" fire, I didn't really consider the possibility that it would affect my morning drive. Let me tell you, I'm still a little traumatized by just how intense it was to drive straight into this:



When I saw the layers of smoke getting thicker and thicker, blacker and blacker; I decided to pull over and snap a shot or two of what was going on. You can see that cops were on their way to help out. CHP, fire, crews, CalTrans, and who knows what else where also on the scene.

Shortly after that picture was taken, they closed down all lanes on the 210. That's when it got even more surreal. Suddenly, there was a sea of white reverse lights as all westbound traffic shifted into reverse in an attempt to exit the freeway via an onramp. It was like being in Blindness... a total mish-mash of cars all vying for an escape route, swinging U-turns and driving head on into oncoming traffic, bolting for the onramp to get off.

They made us exit and re-enter the freeway on the eastbound side, leading me back home. I thought of going into work anyway -- taking the long way round, but ultimately decided against it. It would take me a good hour to hour and half to make it in, and I don't know when I'd have to leave for an afternoon appointment (if the freeway remains closed). So, I'm home and I'm shaken.

It's hard to describe just how intense an experience it was to draw closer and closer to the black billows of smoke. Or what it was like to feel so deeply sad for the burning earth. Or what it was like to watch over the side of the road as people packed their horses into trailers and drove off to get them to safety. It all made me want to cry.