The humidity was high, and the winds were low, so this looked and smelled worse than it was. Might have been a homeless encampment, or it might have been the brain-damaged testosteroids setting off illegal fireworks on the beach. Thanks to Oxnard and VC fire for jumping on the hard-to-access flare-up at 10:30pm.
Wildfire morning. The flames are a dozen miles away, but here downwind, you wouldn’t know it. The smell of burning brush hangs heavily in the air and the cars are covered with ash. We’re not worried for ourselves: that dozen miles is all flat, and there is a six mile wide fire break in the form of vast berry fields twixt the flames and our town.
But we worry for our friends in the hills, and for the kids in our scout troop who are going through the stress of evacuation.
We toy with the idea of cancelling our family campout, but decide to go ahead. A good thing, too: two of our Navy families being evacuated out of Point Mugu can’t find housing nearby for the night, so the campground is the best alternative.
And, frankly, everyone needs a little distraction to relieve the stress, so where better than in the minutiae of setting up camp?
A Bucket and a Pen 