By DPA
San Diego : Jerry Pitchner stands at a roadblock just kilometres from his home in Rancho San Pasqual, hoping to see if his home is still standing.
“Nothing burning over there, right. Are you seeing any fire?” the 65-year-old real estate agent asks as he scans the smoky horizon. “It’s just frustrating that they don’t let us in.”
Pitchner fled his home Monday morning as some of the worst fires in California’s history engulfed the region, taking with him just the bare necessities.
“I’m so stupid I forgot to take my cell phone,” the grey-haired Californian says.
“You get to the point where you just want to go home,” Michael Friedman, a father, agrees. “We have been in the same clothes for three days.”
The men were among around a hundred people who gathered late Wednesday evening near the entrance to their town, hoping to return home only to find they would have to wait at least another day before the authorities gave the all clear.
In greater San Diego, 13 area evacuation orders were lifted already on Wednesday, allowing residents to return. But many found their homes were no longer standing.
Behind nearly every curve of Old Coach Road in the wealthy neighbourhood of Poway lies another image of destruction.
Authorities said Thursday they had found two bodies in one of the town’s homes, likely victims of the flames.
Only ashes and bent steel remained of many of the area’s million-dollar villas.
“This was our dream house – it took years to build,” says a woman choked with tears as she surveys what remained of her home, which stands atop a hill that now looks down on a black moonscape.
Fireman Scott Barnes stands with sweat streaming down his forehead. At temperatures of 30 degrees Celsius, the 39-year-old struggles to get comfortable in his heavy uniform as he rummages through the remains of a villa.
Only the chimney and blackened palm trees are still visible in the rubble. On the side of the road, a mailbox colourfully painted with flowers is untouched, the house behind it reduced to ruin.
“It’s very sad to see all this destruction,” Barnes says, “and when you put hot spots out in houses and you find toys, pictures and other personal belongings, that’s sad.”
Barnes arrived Sunday with his team of reinforcements from northern California. Nearly 9,000 firefighters have been battling the blaze for days.
“I’ve been on since Sunday morning – almost 96 hours with only three hours of sleep,” Feather says, staring out with tired, blood-shot eyes. “It’s hard, especially for the lungs when you inhale, sucking up the dirt, the asbestos, dirt smoke ash and heat. That’s the hard part.”
Highland Valley Road weaves its way through a burnt-out valley where a number of small fires are still burning. The residents haven’t been let back in yet – only fire teams and reporters can get passed the roadblocks. Soldiers carrying guns inspect every vehicle that tries to get through.
Russ Snow admits he sneaked back to his avocado-and-citrus farm on Tuesday. His found that his house had survived – only a shed and part of the plantation burned down.
Snow, 50, decided to flee at the last minute Monday night, and had a harrowing journey.
A few kilometres from Snow’s farm is a car wreck, where one of his neighbours had been stuck after her tires blew out in the heat. Luckily a group of fellow refugees came to her aid.
But like many Californians, snow still swears by his sunny homeland and is prepared to take the negatives in stride.
“We live in an area with beautiful outdoor space and desert plains and good weather,” he says. “There is no cure for this. These fires will happen over and over again.”