DOWNSIZING

#127 - For months they’d been thinking, “We have to get rid of all this stuff.” Meaning the stuff that gathers and fills a home over the years. “We can’t leave it to the kids to deal with.”

Welcome to Before I Forget . .

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For months they’d been thinking, “We have to get rid of all this stuff.” Meaning the stuff that gathers and fills a home over the years. “We can’t leave it to the kids to deal with.”

Only to themselves, Arthur and Beth Wheeler, were a few of the items of any real value. The bedroom dresser drawer/mirror and dining room table. Anybody else would haul it all off to the dump.

They did get one load off to the dump. It's twenty miles away. What a task it would be.

The easy thing to do would be to burn it. Pile it all up and put a torch to it. Getting a permit for something like that would be highly unlikely. Not in these woods.

They were thinking maybe they’d remodel. The old place needed some serious work done. Might even be best to bulldoze the whole thing and rebuild.

Where would they go while the work was being done? Maybe travel some.

Being out in the boonies, the builders might find it easier to stay on site rather than make the time-consuming, gas-guzzling daily trip.

The nearest town is five miles past the dump.

The nearest store for groceries and supplies is eight miles away. A cell tower is near there, but no signal reached them due to the hills.

Recently the kids got them a Starlink set up and cell phones. There was a learning curve, but they caught on and the texting feature was cool.

Before then, it was the landline for dialup internet.

LOCATION LOCATION LOCATION

It’s the view some say.

They built a pergola on the higher southwest corner of the property that looks out over the ocean.

On a clear day, the Farallons are visible. No beach though, or the huge blocks of chiseled rock just off the shoreline. The lay of the land and the thick surrounding forest allows for seeing only the ocean and islands.

They see whales during the migration. And cargo ships on the far horizon either going to or from San Francisco.

It’s the land, others say.

It’s a rugged land, difficult to get into, even for loggers. But they manage. There is one narrow road in and out. It runs along the stream.

Sierra Pacific would buy these eight acres in a heartbeat.

They’ve had the place a long time. The land is worth a lot of money. Much more than it originally cost.

The stream runs along the eastern edge flowing north. It blasts through the narrow valley during the rainy season, often overflowing the road.

It is spring fed, originating miles away in higher elevations. It joins a larger stream a couple of miles to the north.

A reservoir, a half a mile away, was built to capture the spring runoff to provide water for forest fires. Helicopters use it.

The helicopters have used the open space at their place as a staging site for nearby fires.

The house lies above the stream’s high-water mark and is free from trees and brush fifty yards all around and across the stream. An old one lane wooden bridge crosses the stream. The property line runs along the steeper eastside hill.

Fog rolls in and out over the steep cliffs along the shore. It is welcomed as an air conditioner during the summer and fall but is damp and cold throughout the winter.

Fire is the concern here. Earthquakes, too, but fire especially. Once the rain stops, there is always a fire around here somewhere.

It’s been seventy years since fire swept through this valley. It is just a matter of time.

They have a well-supplied bugout bag and camping gear and are ready to get out at the earliest warning or need.

THE RAIN

A rain system had stalled over the area. The road was under water. By evening of the third day, the first day of spring, the water had risen to a level they had not seen before.

Arthur moved the SUV and sedan to higher ground around the back of the house. By 9 o’clock, the water was almost up to the front door.

He got an emergency weather alert on his cell. The full reservoir above them couldn’t handle the onslaught and the levee around it had developed a crack. It was in danger of collapsing. If it did, the whole valley would be inundated with the water’s surge.

Then, the cellphone rang. Carl Johnson, an officer with the forest service they had known for years, told them to "Get out now!” The levee was giving way. They had minutes only to get to higher ground.

He told them the road was covered, and that they would go up to the pergola.

Carl said they would check on them as soon as they could.

He called his son and let them know what was going on and where they were headed.

They scrambled, with Arthur putting their bugout bag, coats, and blankets into the SUV. Beth loaded a box of important papers and pictures into the sedan. Bottled water was already in their cars.

He grabbed the Starlink and power pack.

They heard, and felt, a low hissing cracking rumble.

Both vehicles headed up to the pergola.

Beth, ahead of Arthur, didn’t get far. The street tires and water-soaked incline proved to be too much.

He pulled up alongside and waved her over to him to join him in the SUV as he got out to retrieve the box of papers from her car.

They heard the surge approaching. They saw the debris wave reach the house, surround it, and climb higher up the walls.

The lights went out, followed by a tearing, rending roar lasting only seconds.

The surge raced and echoed down the valley.

Then, a deep and dark silence, and the realization – it was all gone.

They stood there in the rain.

Staring at was no more, they reached for each other’s hand.

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