Love's Real Stories

My friend Martin from Berry Creek made it again. It’s hard to celebrate anything about Berry Creek after the Bear Fire, but I will celebrate the survival of Martin. He talked to me from his bed at Enloe Hospital about his recent experience through the fire, and other adventures.

“Is this a bad time to talk?” I asked.

“Hey, I’m sitting here doing nothing anyway,” he said. “Lucky me, I won a 3-night stay at Enloe. No biggie, it’s my thyroid acting up putting my heart in A-fib. They’ll fix me up again. I’ve been here so many times they have my name on the outside of the door. ‘Your room is ready, sir’ they say.”

We talked about the day of the Bear Fire.

“My wife and I had been shopping in Sacramento,” said Martin. “All the way home we could see the smoke. The Valley turned black with smoke and ash. We drove past a brush fire in Palermo. Coming through Oroville it looked like the Bear Fire smoke cloud was over Feather Falls. Too close to our home in Berry Creek. When we got home, everything looked okay at our place, but the wind was up, and we packed up, just in case. Then came the evacuation warning. I took some photos of our house, and we hit the road to Arizona.”

That afternoon, during their drive to Arizona, Martin and his wife got the word that Berry Creek had completely burned. Martin immediately posted a photo of their house on Facebook, saying good-bye to the home they loved.

I’ve known Martin since he worked in my office in his new career as a Realtor.

“After 30 years in casino management in Arizona, Nevada, and California, I loved Real Estate and working with you guys. But my ticker went bad. I died on the side of the road, remember that?”

Boy, do I ever. Martin had a heart attack on his drive from Berry Creek to Chico, on his way to work.

“It was Sunday and I was going to my Open House. After all the hairpin curves on the mountain roads from Berry Creek, I had a heart attack on a nice flat straightaway in Oroville and hit a tree. A sheriff saw my accident, and she saved my life. She said I was dead at the scene. Broke my sternum giving me CPR. A few more minutes of not breathing, and I would have been a goner.”

He told me he and his wife are good friends with that Sheriff. “I cried when I saw her later, looking into the eyes of my savior. Her mother works here at Enloe.”

The night of the Bear Fire, after Martin posted on Facebook his goodbye to his house, having made it to Arizona, he got a phone call from a reporter with the Sacramento Bee.

“Are you the Martin that posted a photo of your house on Facebook?” said the reporter.

“I thought it was a scammer or salesperson of some kind,” said Martin, “so I was ready to hang up, but then he said, ‘Your house is still standing’. 

The reporter was standing in front of Martin’s house and sent photos, proving its survival.

“I sold my boat a week before the fire,” said Martin. “It was full of 45 gallons of gasoline, right next to the house. The way the fire came through, and burned down my fences and water tank, that boat would have gone up and my house would have gone down.”

“You’re a lucky guy,” I said.

“Listen,” said Martin, “I’ve had so many coincidences in my life. Nobody could be that lucky. I’ve had too many coincidences in life to not believe in God. I’m 61 years old, and I can name about 25 coincidences in my life that can only be explained by the existence of God.”

He said he’s anxious to get back home.

“When the smoke damage is fixed at my house and the water is back on, we’re moving back in. Listen,” he said, “my dad died at 48 of a heart attack. I don’t plan on being here till I’m 90, but I’ll stick around for the next miracle.”

Amen.

I love that piney little Sierra foothill mountain-town of Berry Creek. The General Store. The Volunteer Fire Department. The School. The Pie Festival. The Community Park events. The community spirit that brings the people out to listen to music, to buy craft fair goods, to donate time and money to support their town. Now the Bear Fire has ripped through and pretty much wiped out the town of Berry Creek. Gone are the store, the school, the Fire Department, the park, and the peoples’ houses. But I can attest to the fact that the community spirit is alive and healthy. The people are determined to bring back Berry Creek. 

I know about the people’s determination to bring back Berry Creek because I know Will, a guy I refer to as the Mayor of Berry Creek. Will is the organizer of events. He’s the guy that stands at the microphone and addresses the people at the events, reminding them of the next upcoming events. He’s the guy that sets up the sound system at the events because it’s his sound system. He lives and breathes Berry Creek. 

My first foray into Berry Creek was in the year Nineteen Eighty-something.  I had a client, Barry, looking for land to buy. He was from the Bay Area, retiring, a widower, and he wanted seclusion. Most of my weekends for a couple of months were with Barry, cruising the back roads. Looking for the right country property. Barry and I had been up into Forest Ranch, Cohasset, Paradise, Butte Creek Canyon. 

“Too crowded!” was Barry’s refrain. He found an ad in the newspaper. “Check this out! he said.” The ad read ‘40 acres with a stream and no neighbors for miles. $19,000’. “This sounds great!” said Barry. 

I called Jack, the Realtor with the ad. Jack said, “Yeah, well that one’s alright, but I know a guy willing to part with two nice parcels with big trees and water to boot. Unlisted. You know Berry Creek?”

I didn’t. But I do now. The last time I saw Barry, we closed escrow on his land. He said, “Don’t tell anyone where I am and don’t come visit. After 40 years in the East Bay rat race, I’m going off the grid.”

Later forays into Berry Creek I was with my band. We’ve played annual gigs there for years. My favorite gigs. A sweet spot. The Pie Festival! It’s a fundraiser for the local Fire Department, and Mayor Will sets up the sound and hosts a day of entertainment by local bands, dance troops, speakers, and fun. The pine trees are spaced like columns in a giant airy cathedral. Pies by the hundreds, homemade by the Berry Creek people are on sale. The sweet smell of the pies mixes with the sweet smell of the pines, and the music drifts through the mountain air as the people visit the crafts booths, buy the foodie goodies, and mix and mingle all day long. 

Then there’s the Music in the Park series on the Elementary School land, just up the road from the Fire Department. The Berry Creek people built a stage under the tall pines and cedars just downhill from the school, with lumber milled from the local trees, two-inch-thick by 10-inch-wide planks. We stood on that stage the last gig we played in Berry Creek, a couple of months ago, in July, our first gig back since the Covid shut-down. The people came out, social-distanced, and kicked up the dust, dancing to the music. Talk about fun. Talk about good air. And about fifteen degrees cooler than the Valley.

I haven’t been back to Berry Creek since the Bear Fire, but I’ve talked to Mayor Will. Berry Creek is coming back. They have the will as well as Will. We need to help. Right now, I’m looking at Rusty, the great Border Collie mix dog that lived through the fire as his world burnt down. His owner is a friend of our family, who lost his home and has been put up in a motel room arranged and paid by the Red Cross. 

We don’t know how Rusty made it through that fire. He must have had the WILL.