In 1977, after two years of draught, Mt Diablo State Park in Californuia was set on fire by lightning strikes in a dry thunderstorm. Even back then it was surrounded by bedroom communities. Fires in California at that instant had forced the comitting of all fire reserves from CA, AZ, NV. By good fortune the quarry on the side of the mountain saw the stikes and the dispatcher on duty at night called in everyone he could think of and then took a D9 Cat uphill to cut fire break. For two days the only large equipment that could get up there came from the quarry. As I understand it the quarry owner took up a cat himself. On the third day professional fire crews came in to help. I am hazy as to exactly how long until containment and extinguishing took. I lived nearby and had a 4 wheel drive, friends in the sheriffs office and a press pass. When I got up there they needed water, food, clothes, and bedding worse than they needed me. Back down and I started scrounging water and food. Budweiser was already providing canned water for other Calf firefighters. They loaded 10 cases and I talked McDonalds out of 150 hamburgers. For the next two days I kept making supply runs for sleeping bags, water, food, batteries, clothes and blankets. By that time massive support started arriving. I went home and went to sleep around the clock. After it was out and only hot spots left, I went back up. 6000 acres gone, smoke fumes and the smell of char everywhere. Over on the Livermore side there was still so much ash the sun was orange at zenith. Holes in the ground where rocks or tree roots had exploded from the heat. By night fall no sound, no movement, no insects, no birds, no rustling, just a slow fetid breath of breeze. I sat up there all night. Daybreak came, I went home, showered, shaved and back to work.
Hodr
