When the Lake Fire began about 3:30 p.m. last Friday near Zaca Lake, the day after a beautiful set of Fourth of July celebrations, it appeared that it might not be something we should be too concerned about.

For hours, the fire seemed to smolder on the backside of Grass Mountain and Zaca Peak, the smoke filling the sky behind the ridge yet showing no movement out of the Zaca Lake bowl.

By midnight, the reported area burned was a little less than 500 acres, but within hours, the fire took off, blackening an additional 4,000 acres by 5 a.m. and 11,000 more acres by the end of the day.

A 16,000-acre fire here in just one day!

At first, the major concern was that the flames might cross over into the San Rafael Wilderness, heading down into the Sisquoc River and Manzana Creek drainages — similar to what occurred in 2007 during the giant Zaca Fire.

That blaze consumed more than 240,000 acres and took more than two months to put out. The concern was that it could happen again.

Cresting the Mountaintop

While many were worrying that it could become another major wilderness fire, less thought may have been to impacts that might occur if the fire should make it over the ridge and come down into the Santa Ynez Valley.

But just at the point when it appeared the fire might be settling down for the evening and perhaps staying on that side of the mountain, a column of dark gray smoke started to rise.

The wind shifted, sending scores of burning embers over and down the front side of the San Rafael Mountains.

Within minutes, there were scattered spots of fire just above the Midland School trails stretching from there toward Grass Mountain. It was now becoming a valley fire as well, with the potential to threaten thousands of homes in the area should it spread.

Helicopters began to move into the area, dropping loads of water onto those hotspots, and it appeared that they might be able to hold the line.

As the number of embers and spot fires increased, however, it was clear that the fire was now firmly embedded on the front side of the mountains.

Suddenly, the potential threat to the Santa Ynez Valley was becoming a potential nightmare. As darkness approached and I headed home, I was seriously concerned about what I might see the next day and where the fire would head.

Would it be down into the valley or the wilderness? Or both?

Backing Down the Mountain

Last Saturday, while the fire was exploding both to the east and west, all eyes were on the front side of the mountains directly above Birabent Canyon.

With the flames coming down the entire face of the mountains — from Lookout Mountain on the far west to Zaca Peak to the east — the danger was palpable.

“Backing down” is the term firefighters give to this type of movement, given that fire really wants to burn uphill, but falling embers and other burning material will eventually take it downhill.

The question that remained unanswered was what would happen when the fire reached the bottom of the canyon and began its uphill push to Figueroa Mountain Road, or up-canyon movement toward Figueroa Mountain.

Sunday Burnout

By Sunday afternoon, it appeared that — with a few exceptions where the fire sloped over Figueroa Mountain Road — firefighters would be able to hold the road. Or at least most of it.

At the same time, other crews set up to fire-out along the road from the bottom of Birabent Canyon southwest along Figueroa Mountain Road to close off any fire that might threaten Neverland Ranch, Midland School or other ranches in the area. 

By the end of the day, firefighters had closed off the fire in those areas, which allowed more focus on the upper part of Birabent Canyon.

In preparation should that happen, aircraft dropped thousands of gallons of retardant along Figueroa Mountain Road, adding a strawberry-colored topping on the bright yellow grasses. 

By the evening, as I drove up to survey the upper part of the road, it appeared that the road had held as well.

At that point, I felt optimistic. I had joked earlier that it just might be one of the biggest prescribed burns ever. I certainly hoped that would be the case.

That optimism was about to change.

Never in Our Fire History?

Historically, I don’t think there has ever been a wildfire coming out of the backcountry and down into Birabent Canyon. So, I think it was difficult to envision what might occur should that happen.

By midweek, we were about to find out. Given the length of the fire line, in hindsight it was more or less predictable that Figueroa Mountain Road would not be capable of holding over the distance the fire was moving.

That the firefighters held most of the road was incredible, but given the number of small saddles and open spots where both the wind and fire could cross over, it was inevitable that it would in one or two of those spots.

One of those was the upper end of the Sedgwick Reserve, with 6,000 acres that stretch from Figueroa Mountain Road down into the valley at the upper end of Brinkerhoff Avenue.

The other was the upper end of Birabent Canyon near the base of Figueroa Mountain.

Should that happen, the whole front side of Figueroa Mountain would be exposed to the fire.

By Tuesday, the fire had reached both saddles and blown right through them. In the moments both were breached, the Lake Fire not only became the state’s largest fire this summer, but one with the potential to create massive amounts of destruction.

Into the Reserve

Given the vast amounts of grassland within the Sedgwick Reserve, it was inevitable that the fire could not be held at its upper end.

The major challenge would be keeping it from burning downhill through the heart of the reserve to Brinkerhoff Avenue or the Woodstock area.

From town, the plumes of smoke cropping up from the numerous fires were terrifying the community, who were getting little good information from the incident fire team. It appeared as if the fire was almost at their doorsteps.

Behind the scenes, in similar fashion to the firing operations near Midland School, actions were being taken near the lower end of the reserve. It appears those actions may have reduced or ended the threat to valley residents.

At the same time, while saving the valley from the threat of a major catastrophe, it appears Sedgwick Reserve has received serious impacts that could have long-term consequences.

Over and Around the Mountain

At the same time that embers were pushing fire down into the reserve, the flames came out of Birabent Canyon at the saddle marking the start of the La Jolla Trail and road on the south side down to Tunnel Ranch.

The open meadow area is one of the most photographed areas on the mountain with its wide expanse of grassland, scattered oaks and the dominating presence of the mountain. Nearby, the hillsides are filled with the oranges of the poppies and blue-hewed colorings of the lupine in the spring.

In the wintertime, it’s a glorious spot for a picnic; in the summer, it provides the perfect fuel for a wildfire.

On Thursday afternoon, I had the opportunity to visit the area. The thick smoke made it feel like the whole mountain was on fire, but a closer inspection made me realize that most everything on the mountain already had burned.

Cautiously, I made my way around the mountain to the campground.

At the start of the loop, an encampment was completely burned out, the pickup truck incinerated and the camp burned to ashes.

Thankfully, the campground survived with little damage other than scorched grass. It appeared that only one of the picnic tables had surrendered any damage.

However, turning the corner as I left the campground, it was impossible to be prepared for what I saw beyond that point. Suddenly, I was surrounded by hundreds and possibly thousands of trees — pine, fir and oak — burned to their core, like giant skeletal remains. Hillsides totally barren.

Beyond that, in an area set aside for recreational cabins, three of them had burned to the ground, leaving only ashes, scattered appliances and the remains of beautifully constructed river stone chimneys.

Along with Sedgwick, the damage to the Figueroa Mountain environments could be generational.

Looking Down on Cachuma Saddle

As I made my way around the mountain, I saw destruction everywhere. Fir Canyon was burned out, the East Pinery was hit hard, Ranger Peak was burned out, and all the watersheds leading down to places such as White Rock were impacted by fire.

As I continued past Ranger Peak, I saw a major battle developing down along the Happy Canyon area as it reaches Cachuma Saddle. 

Helicopters were making continuous water drops in an attempt to keep the flames from crossing east over onto the east side of the road, where they would have access to other steep hillsides leading up to Cachuma Mountain and into the wilderness areas.

Farther down the road, I came to the point where it was no longer safe to continue.

Below me, a contingent of crew trucks and engines sat on a small ridge overlooking Cachuma Saddle, watching the billowing clouds of smoke heading skyward, and in the process forming a mega cloud thousands of feet tall.

The prevailing wind was to the interior, meaning that the fire soon could be heading over the saddle and down into Sunset Valley to join with other fronts in the lower part of Fir Canyon near Davy Brown Campground.

Only the Beginning?

The Lake Fire is rapidly becoming one of the most destructive fires in Santa Barbara County history, and we may only be at the beginning of it.