My Day As An Arson Suspect: How I Survived a Canyon Fire
By Gloria Siess
We started our day at a local El Polo Loco in Big Bear, California. My Husband and I were looking forward to a restful, relaxing day of hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail. After lunch I had an urge to visit an area called Van Dusen Canyon, which meandered into the historic Holcomb Valley Mining Attractions,{ including old log cabins and a few miner's graves}. Hitting the dirt road in our CRV, we had no idea that our innocent afternoon was going to turn into high drama within minutes.
We pulled into an turn-out which led to a Pacific Crest Trail-head. As usual, we did not have a cell phone, which would have not worked in this remote location, anyway. As soon as we started our hike, I saw a suspicious mist that looked ghastly and pale blue, like a spirit rising up over the pines. As we got closer I yelled to my husband, "Jon, it's a fire!"
"It's just the mist rising," He said easily.
"It's burning," I insisted, "I can smell it." Sure enough, as we hiked down the path, we could actually see some of the burning branches. Within seconds the CRV was pounding down Van Dusen Canyon Road towards anyone who might have a cell phone. I finally pulled a lady over who called it in promptly. Jon wanted some photographs, so somewhat reluctantly I went back towards the trail-head, where we waited for the first responders to arrive.
Shooting wildly in all directions, I must have taken sixty photographs in all, with my trusty Nikon Coolpix. The fire department and forestry arrived in approximately fifteen minutes, followed by the Erikson Tanker. For forty minutes we watched in appreciation as the process of fire fighting unfolded.
Forestry Personnel expressed their gratitude for our quick reporting of the fire. In just minutes my husband and I would be taken to the Sheriff's Detective Division, where they would split us up (like murder suspects) and drill us for an hour on the details. To further make the procedure a trial and tribulation, my diabetes medicine had caused my blood sugar to fall dangerously low and I felt close to passing out. I requested some food or juice, feeling like a suspect in the famous series, Law and Order.
My husband was once a detective of twenty years experience. He, too, felt somewhat baffled by the intensity of questioning we underwent. To the credit of the department as a whole, a very kind young police officer stayed by my side during the interrogation, often adding supportive comments. Our camera film was taken for review (later we received compliments from Forestry on our shots). Pale, shaken and feeling like a stroke victim, I emerged from my ordeal feeling certain they felt we were thrill arsonists who started the fire in order to shoot great photos.
The fire was found to be not the work of arsonists, but the result of a campfire that had not been appropriately extinguished.
