Three horrible, disastrous fires were ripping through parts of Spokane on Aug. 1. Four close friends, on a group chat two days later, turned their conversation to the tragedy. By that date, the Spokane Complex fires had burned more than 10,000 acres, destroyed more than 700 homes and forced about 65,000 people to evacuate.
Kathy, the youngest of the four, spoke urgently of helping the folks who had lost so much. The group — including my wife, Lana — wanted to come up with a plan by their next get-together at the end of the month.
But Lana and I talked it over and agreed the need was now.
We gathered as many critically needed supplies as we could. Kathy's sister Sue joined in. Trips to Costco turned up protein bars, sports drinks, and cases of water for both displaced victims and the firefighters giving everything to contain the infernos. Everybody had boxes and bags ready by Aug. 6. We nearly filled the back of the Outback with more than $1,000 worth of supplies — eye drops for firefighters, cases of diapers, wipes, new and used clothes, hygiene products, and gift cards for gasoline.
Lana had researched the safest dropoff spots and made phone contact with Sam at Cline's Heating and Air in Spokane Valley, whose shop had become a community collection point — supplies sorted and moved on to those who needed them most.
There was already a gloomy pall of smoke over Boise as we set out before noon. With fires blazing across so much of Oregon, Highway 95 was out — active fires near Weiser and construction eliminated that option. We stuck to the main highways, adding miles but staying clear of danger.
I split the trip with an overnight stop outside Pendleton. The route was patchworked with fresh burn scars, and not far over the Idaho border, Lana had to don her mask to breathe through the smoke. From Huntington toward Baker City, the air stayed thick and dark grey and never lightened up.
On Aug. 7 we were back on the road at 5:45 a.m. The drive north on Highway 395 to Interstate 90 was smooth and mostly clear. The closer we got to Spokane, the more frequently we saw the evidence of recent fires — blackened patches, burned tree lines, large scars along the freeway that had been recently extinguished.
When we finally reached Spokane Valley, Treasure, the owner of Cline's, along with Sam and the rest of the staff, greeted us with warm hugs and helped us unload every last box.
Lana and I were both nearly in tears.
The trip gave us a strong sense of purpose — the kind that's hard to explain until you've felt it. A carload of supplies. A long drive through smoke. And the look on someone's face when you show up and help.
That felt like enough.