After Colorado fires, residents try to cope
LOUISVILLE, Colo. — Bryan Giles, who fled with his cat, Chloe, finds himself replaying their harrowing escape from the blaze. The Manz family is scouring the ruins of their home for family heirlooms. Nan Boultbee and Lex Kell are still waiting for their street to reopen to catch a glimpse of the four-bedroom house they had lived in for five years, now torched.
In this part of the drought-stricken West, wildfires come more often now. They sweep through neighborhoods and often retreat as quickly as they came, leaving behind new landscapes of suburban rubble — this one, after the devastating blaze that swept through the area around Boulder, Colo., softened under a sudden snow.
But like the coals that were still glowing days later under the frost, the extent of what was lost and the challenge of what comes next is only now becoming apparent to those who lived in the 991 homes that were lost in one of the worst wildfires in Colorado history.
On Wednesday, officials reported the first confirmed death from the blaze, announcing that they had found the partial remains of an adult about a half-mile from an area being investigated as a possible source of the fire. One other person remained missing.
“We all thought we were coming back,” said Boultbee, 66, a software programmer who escaped with her wife, Kell, also 66. Now she finds herself waking up in the middle of the night, asking, “Why didn’t I grab this or that?”
They make their way down the ruined streets, searching for fragments from what was once their living room. They pore over rental ads on the internet, recalibrating their options in a housing market that had been tight and expensive even before the disaster. They talk about new definitions of what is safe and what is not, what should be considered important, who counts.
At a shelter for evacuees, Giles held all he has left: a white plastic bag with a change of clothes, a backpack and the cat carrier holding Chloe.
“I have to keep myself in check and stay strong for her,” Giles, 29, said of the 4-year-old tortoiseshell mix who has been at his side almost constantly since the blaze Dec. 30. “She’s kind of my emotional anchor. I don’t know if I would have been able to handle this if we were separated.”
‘Our whole ridge was on fire’
Hours after fleeing from the blaze, Andy Manz, 44, got a glimpse of its devastation. He and several homeowners “incognitoed it” back into their neighborhood on foot that night, against evacuation orders.
Their way was lit by headlamps and the still-raging flames.
“Our whole ridge was on fire,” said Manz, who co-publishes Boulder Lifestyle magazine with his wife, Katie. “Our next-door neighbor’s was totally engulfed in flames. Our house was already burned to the ground.”
Theirs was one of dozens of houses in the upscale Spanish Hills subdivision, from rustic 1950s ranchstyle properties to contemporary dream homes, that were leveled to smoldering foundations and sootscarred brick chimneys.
The Manzes were at home when the fire leapt across U.S. 36, a nearby highway. They were able to gather their four children and rescue dog before making their escape.
Katie Manz held her daughter Farrah, and they recalled the last thing they could remember about living there: It was the two of them, sitting over there on what was the couch, cuddling.
“We still have the memory,” Manz said, “even though the room is gone.”
‘We don’t have a home to go home to’
Boultbee and Kell fled their four-bedroom, 3,000-square-foot house in the Enclave subdivision, perched on the western perimeter of the city of Louisville. They have leaned on friends in the fire’s aftermath.
The couple had frantically packed a few things — tax papers, a couple of changes of underwear, some sweats — and then drove out in separate cars with their two dogs, R.E., a 17-year-old Russell terrier and cocker mix, and Tucker, a 13-yearold beagle.
The couple landed at the home of friends who live a few miles away. There, they met up with two other couples from their neighborhood, Cindy Stonesmith and her husband Matt, along with Hank Shaw and his wife, Joanne Speirs.
But that same afternoon, they had to move again; the friend’s neighborhood was now being evacuated. Their next refuge was a Hampton Inn in Longmont, about 15 miles to the north.
Their nomadic journey continued this week as the three couples landed in an extended-stay lodge in the Denver suburb of Broomfield. Insurance will pay for them to stay there for the near future.
After that, Kell and Boultbee thought they might be able to move on to a housesitting situation at a friend’s home in Louisville — but plans to visit there to discuss an arrangement were temporarily scuttled when the friend reported symptoms that sounded like COVID-19.
“I don’t think the reality of what happened has set in yet,” Kell said. “It’s shocking to know I have absolutely nothing. I just don’t. And we don’t have a home to go home to.”