Southern Sierran
November 15 Fires Take Devastating Toll

By Claire Schlotterbeck

Chino Hills State Park before and after the fire Photos by Melanie Schlotterbeck

Any one who loves wildlands or lives near them always feels anxiety on hot windy days. November 15th was that kind of day. As I headed to my weekly shopping at the Yorba Linda Farmer's Market, I saw a heart-sinking plume of smoke to the east and a while later another one to the northwest. Calamity followed for our Puente-Chino Hills Wildlife Corridor. Two fires struck our hills - one fire started along the 91 freeway, at about 9:00 AM near the Green River exit in Corona (Riverside County). Santa Ana winds sent the fire into Chino Hills State Park (San Bernardino County) and up the hills where so many homes have been built right next to the Park. No buffer zone was required of developers by decision makers.

Another fire, caused by poorly maintained oil company electric lines started in Brea (Orange County) at 11:00 AM. Because of the erratic winds, these two fires eventually merged into one big fire in Tonner Canyon (Los Angeles County).

Our hills have never experienced this kind of man-made disaster before—30,000 acres burned in one fell swoop. Hundreds of homes were lost. Chino Hills State Park took the brunt of the damage – 95% of it burned. On a ridge top in Carbon Canyon all one could see in every direction, over every ridge and in every valley were charred ruins of a once thriving wild land. The fire burned so hot is some places that trees exploded and left a hole. Firefighters call it a moonscape. Natural fires usually start at ridge tops by lightning and burn more slowly downhill. Man-made fires usually start in a canyon, where the roads are, and race uphill exploding out of control.

Heartbreaking images remain etched in a cavalcade of memories for those of us who went through the fire and its aftermath – the mallard duck burned deep in the hills (what was she doing there?), the song bird stuck in a chain link fence, dead but not burned, the six point buck snagged by old barbed wire fencing and unable to escape the flames. Small animals, failing to outrun the fire, carpeted the hills - a field day for turkey vultures. An army of charred snails, now white, looked like pearls strewn across the brittle ground.

This degree of devastation is the result of land use decisions that put public safety, a basic and primary task of government, at risk. The power of zoning carries with it the responsibility for consequences. Cities approve new housing developments right next to protected wild lands, providing no buffer from the inevitable flames. The responsibility of providing adequate defensible space belongs on the housing projects, not on public land that was purchased to conserve the resources. Yet the burden of the consequences of these bad land use decisions is repeatedly being borne by the protected lands, the wildlife, the taxpayers, and all the people who suffered loss. Developers and decision makers are usually long gone when the predictable disaster hits.

It is too soon to tell how the hills will recover. We always hear that fire is a natural part of our ecosystems' life cycles. However, the frequency of these fires is not natural and they are changing the very nature of the landscape. Our hills have been burning nearly every five years, not every 30 years. These too-frequent fires don't allow young recovering plants to mature enough to develop seeds. Other plants survive by storing energy in their roots so they can re-sprout when burned but too many fires sap the plants of that energy and they eventually give up. As the bushes and trees die off, non-native species take over. What we set out to protect is gone.

We pray for gentle rains and we work to elect enlightened decision makers.

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