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Southern California’s October wildfires
created crimson skies over Palomar.
Fire
on the Mountain
At 4 a.m.
on October 23, Scott Kardel, communications manager for Caltech’s
Palomar Observatory, was awakened by the blare of a siren and a voice
over a loudspeaker. The local fire official, driving slowly down the road,
announced that it was time to get to safety. A fire had broken out about
12 miles south on the La Jolla Indian reservation, down in the valley,
and was racing toward Palomar Mountain.
Kardel, his
wife, Alydia, and their teenage daughter, Sara, quickly got dressed, jumped
in their car, and drove the short distance from their home to the observatory,
where other members of the Palomar staff were gathering. Soon, about 30
other members of the small Palomar community of roughly 300 people started
appearing, some with their horses and motor homes. The facility’s
well-maintained fire breaks and the impervious steel and concrete dome
of the historic 200-inch Hale Telescope made the observatory the safest
refuge on the mountain from the blaze, dubbed the Poomacha fire.
Early fall
is prime wildfire season in southern California, and the Palomar staff
had already been concerned about the danger because of the region’s
severe drought conditions. Then the fierce Santa Ana gales started blowing
on Sunday, October 21, bringing sustained winds of 45 miles per hour and
gusts of more than 65 miles per hour. “It was pretty brutal,”
said Kardel. As a precaution, observing was cancelled for the night. “When
the Santa Ana winds are blowing and the humidity is low, everyone on the
mountain top is on pins and needles,” added Dan McKenna, the deputy
site manager at Palomar.
By late Sunday,
it seemed like all of southern California was aflame. From the U.S.–Mexico
border to Santa Barbara, more than two dozen fires ignited, eventually
killing eight people, destroying more than 2,000 homes and hundreds of
other structures, and forcing the evacuation of about half a million people,
mostly in the San Diego area. (Amazingly, with the exception of Malibu,
the entire LA basin, including Pasadena, was spared both fire and the
brunt of the heavy winds.) On Monday, with the smoke from one of the San
Diego fires visible, McKenna asked members of the Palomar grounds crew
to walk the perimeter boundary of the observatory’s 2,200-acre complex,
to make sure that there were no tree limbs close to any power lines.
Although
Palomar locals say that the last major fire on the mountain top was in
the 1930s, before the observatory was built, staff who live on the mountain
say that fires in 1987 and 1989 got within a couple of miles. On both
those occasions, the observatory became the main fire command center,
hosting about 2,500 firefighters and 50 members of the community for two
weeks. And in 2003, during the Cedar and Paradise wildfires in San Diego,
much of the mountain was evacuated. McKenna couldn’t derive any
comfort from a firsthand historical perspective, since he had only been
on the job for three months. Still, in his more than 30 years at other
observatories, including the Steward and McDonald observatories in Arizona
and Texas, respectively, he had experienced a few wildfires that had come
close to these facilities and was hardly a greenhorn.
On Tuesday
morning, when the fire broke out on the La Jolla reservation, McKenna
quickly realized that the observatory was going to be transformed from
a research facility to a firefighting staging ground. Although the observatory
has several cottages on site that could house area residents, the staff
knew that it would make most sense to get residents off the mountain while
the roads were still open. Compounding the problem, power and telephone
service went out that day, although the facility’s generators were
able to provide electricity for the observatory.
“We
received people for a while, but we’re not set up to have people
there long term,” Kardel said. “In a pinch, it’s okay,
but it’s not a good place to hang out for a week. Every time we
looked at the fire, it seemed to be getting worse. We decided it would
be better to get people to a proper evacuation site.”
Kardel and
his family drove down the mountain on Tuesday, along with the residents
who had gathered at the observatory, leaving McKenna and several other
staff members to maintain the facility. Two staffers, computer specialist
Dan Zieber and electronics technician Greg van Idsinga, are members of
the Palomar volunteer fire department, and they were quickly dispatched
to work the Poomacha fire.

Thicksten
snapped this picture on the afternoon of October 23, as a massive smoke
plume from the Poomacha fire in north San Diego county rose behind the
dome of the 200-inch Hale Telescope at Palomar Observatory on Palomar
Mountain. At the time, reported Thicksten, the fire, which had begun on
the La Jolla Indian reservation about 12 miles to the south, was “about
1.5 miles away as the crows fly and seems to be headed in a northerly
direction.” The structures in the foreground are part of the Palomar
testbed interferometer operated by JPL.
“By
Tuesday afternoon, the fire was making its run up the south slope and
we got our first view of its smoke clouds,” McKenna said. Because
the wind was blowing from the east, the air was clear on the mountain
and the views of the ash plumes were spectacular. “We had a fire
department radio, so we were in constant contact with fire officials,”
McKenna said. Caltech administrators in Pasadena were also in regular
contact with McKenna, expressing their concern about the fire danger as
well as potential risks from deteriorating air quality. They suggested
that the remaining staff members evacuate Palomar, something that had
never happened before at the observatory. That night, McKenna and his
coworkers took turns walking around the dome’s exterior catwalk
to monitor the progress of the fire.
On Wednesday,
with fires still raging in San Diego county, the need to evacuate became
more urgent. “I received communication from Caltech that they were
concerned, and they wanted to make it clear that Caltech values its employees
above its considerations for the facility,” McKenna said. No one
wanted to leave, but now there was no choice. “We could hear over
the radio the fire officials calling for backup support. There was talk
about road closures.” Making matters more confusing, smoke would
occasionally appear in unexpected places, and it was unclear whether it
was coming from control burns set intentionally by firefighters, or flare-ups
from the Poomacha fire. If the staff was going to get out, this was the
time, so on Wednesday afternoon, McKenna and about 10 other employees
drove down the mountain.
The scene
driving down South Grade Road—known as S6—was surreal. The
fire was moving along a ridge parallel to the observatory, but with the
wind still blowing away from the observatory, the vehicles and passengers
were in no immediate danger. Once they got to the burn areas, they were
surprised to see most of the oak trees still standing, amid a blackened
landscape barren of brush. Said McKenna, “It was like everything
had evaporated and left the trees,” due, most likely, to the fast
moving nature of the fire. “We saw buildings still standing, which
means that the fire department did an amazing job of structure protection.”
Unfortunately,
firefighters were unable to save the home of Karl Duns- combe, telescope
operator for the 200-inch. According to Kardel, a neighbor called Dunscombe
early Tuesday morning to tell him that the Poomacha fire was bearing down
on his house near the La Jolla reservation. Dunscombe and his wife escaped
before the fire consumed and then destroyed their home. “Had it
been another five minutes, they would not have gotten out,” Kardel
said.

On
Palomar Mountain, the Thicksten family dogs welcome a firefighting team
from San Dimas, California.
Back at the
observatory, Bob Thicksten and Steve Einer were the only Palomar employees
remaining on the mountain, joined a few days later by Bruce Baker. With
its one-million-gallon water tank and three wells, Palomar became the
filling station for fire crews protecting the mountain. The observatory’s
administrative manager and a Palomar resident for 28 years, Thicksten
knew that the firefighters would run out of water if he didn’t stay
behind to keep the facility’s generators and its water pumps going.
“I explained to Caltech administrators that as long as I took proper
precautions, I should stay in place,” he said. “I’ve
got my purebred Australian shepherds with me, and I wouldn’t put
my dogs in danger.”
Near Mother’s
Kitchen, a restaurant five miles from the observatory, Thicksten, his
son, Daniel, and other volunteers set up a barbeque and started feeding
firefighters, mostly using food donated by residents. Some firefighters
also caught up on sleep in the observatory’s dormitory, normally
occupied by visiting astronomers, and on the floor of the Hale Telescope’s
dome. Not surprisingly, the firefighters started asking questions about
the kind of work that goes on at Palomar. “I became a tour guide
during that time,” Thicksten said.
“For
a few nights we had 50 to 100 firefighters sleeping at the observatory,”
Thicksten said, six days after the fire started. By that time, the fire
was more than 50 percent contained, and new resources continued to arrive,
redeployed from other fires that had been totally contained. A group of
Marines with two bulldozers even showed up to help clear fire roads. “Caltech
has a major role in the community and they depend on us,” Thicksten
said. “And we’re getting the support we need” from the
firefighters and Marines.
Nearly fully
contained by November 4, the fire never came closer than a mile of the
observatory. By Monday, November 5, observing had resumed there. “If
there is anything that’s permanent, it’s the 200-inch,”
McKenna said. “That’s built to last for all time.” As
for the Palomar staff members, he said, they had plainly showed that they
consider the observatory more than just a place to work. “Everyone
feels that working here is not just a job but part of a community. There’s
not one person here who does not take extra pride in what they do.”
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