A week ago, I had no idea what a good AQI number was nor
that Woodhaven typically basks in deliciously healthy AQIs of 20 or so.
This morning’s number is currently 381. I quietly celebrated that it is finally below
400 for the first time in an eternity (actually 4 days).
The past week has been unexpectedly challenging. And one full of desperate attempts to remain
grateful and hopeful.
One week ago today, the areas around Portland, Oregon were
preparing for a potentially historic windstorm. The speed of the wind was
anticipated to be a typical winter storm.
What made it historic was the timing.
Hot, dry winds from the east blowing over terrain that hasn’t
had rain in over a month (pretty much a drought by Pacific Northwest standards),
bending trees still full with leaves had many people very concerned about
potentially devastating fires.
The concern became reality in a matter of hours.
For a few days, while the east wind still howled and leaves from Idaho continued gathering in our yard, we watched an enormous smoke plume rise like a thunderstorm 60 miles to our south.
The beautifully wooded Oregon landscape, dotted with small
rural communities and so much livestock, was on fire. Towns were overcome, evacuations were
rampant, and in some cases the first responders had to abandon the posts they were
protecting in order to avoid becoming death statistics.
Shortly later, a fire started to our north, in the rough
terrain of heavily treed wilderness. It
wasn’t threatening any populations, until it was. Just yesterday communities not far from
Woodhaven were finally told to simply be “Ready” to evacuate (have plans)
instead of being “Set” (livestock already relocated, bags and cars packed, set
to flee at a moment’s notice).
Last Thursday, we woke up to news that there was a vegetation fire within walking distance of Woodhaven. An angel of an early riser had noticed it at 4:51am and called it in. Three fire engines and two water tenders responded. The County Fire Marshal and a Battalion Chief also showed up, with other equipment on stand-by. In less than two unnerving hours, the fire was out. No structures were threatened. Only some charred bushes and a tree trunk remain as humbling reminders of how close we came to joining so many others in utter devastation.
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| We have no idea how it started. We are just immensely grateful it ended quickly. |
Friday morning, I woke up in the 2:00am hour overwhelmed by
nausea and dizziness. Despite closed windows
and no running air vents, Woodhaven was…and still is…slowly filling with
wildfire smoke.
The destructive east winds that fueled the fires had thankfully
shifted, slowly reducing the fire danger to more manageable levels. But the winds now slowly wisping from the
west meant that all that smoke that had been blown over the Pacific Ocean was
now coming back to visit. And like the
completely unwelcomed and uninvited houseguest that it is, it refuses to leave.
The air is stagnant and yellowish. Visibility has at times not extended past our
5 acres. A few days ago it was reported
that the smoke above us is 8,000-9,000 feet thick. Thanks to a resulting inversion layer (the meteorological
event when cold air gets trapped below warm air), what should be days in the
mid-80s have instead been in the mid-60s.
Our heater is on and I am wearing lounge pants for the first time in
months. All while cooling fans try to
filter our interior air.
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| At times we can't even see the closest trees. |
With the totally-taken-for-granted ability to always open
our windows for fresh (if not damp) air, we have never owned an air
purifier. Our bad. Thanks to a plea for tips on Facebook, we have
been running a MacGyvered air purifier consisting of a box fan, a furnace
filter, and blue painter’s tape. Blue
tape is also sealing gaps around an exterior door that I am now acutely aware
needs new weather stripping. We are all
sorts of klassy here at smoked-out Woodhaven.
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| I've named this apparatus Merv. He's 11. See below for details. |
Better filters are on order, me now having learned the
existence and importance of a high MERV rating (Minimum Efficiency Reporting
Values that indicate a filter's ability to snag pollution particles – and 13,
by the way). Amazon couldn’t get the
filters here any faster than this coming Friday. When we ordered them, I assumed (wished? hoped?
prayed?) that would be too late to be useful.
Sadly now I’m not so sure.
In addition to Merv, I also have a humidifier going, I’m
drinking tons of water, and I am wearing a wet dish towel on my face. I also have a crock pot simmering on our
coffee table, currently just filled with water and lemon juice. I would love to also have a pot simmering on
our stove, but sadly we have a cooktop with a down draft. Years ago during a cold snap, I made a long
bean bag to cover the exhaust vent to keep cold air from filling our
kitchen. It’s currently doing a nice job
of keeping the smoke at bay, but any use of the cooktop means I have to uncover
the vent and allow smoke to stream in. First
world smoke problems. And a valid excuse not to cook. So at least that.
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| Conveniently, I am accustomed to wearing a mask. Because 2020. |
Two days ago, our favorite contractor offered to loan us one
of his industrial air cleaners since it was just sitting in his shop waiting
for something to do. When Mel delivered
it, I was nearly in tears from gratitude.
Finally, I would be able to breathe some cleanish, healthish air! And it was indeed lovely. For about 22 hours. The HEPA filter about the size of a riding
mower tire is already full, the machine deflating me with its blinking ERROR
message.
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| The white thing is a filter coozie. The dirty filter itself is snuggled inside. |
This morning, with the toddler-sized air scrubber now just a
novelty for the cats to sniff, I woke up in the 3:00am hour with the return of
nausea and dizziness. They have been
joined by their Smoke Inhalation friends named Burning Eyes, Tight Chest, and
Sore Throat. It’s quite a party.
I have an app on my phone (loaded last week) that tells me
the location of various emergency calls around our county. Downed wires, traffic collisions, fire alarms,
vegetation fires, medical emergencies. I relied on it heavily when the fire
broke out at the end of our street. I have
been noticing the past few days a concerning rise in medical emergency calls. All over the county. Many many at a time. I can only assume they are related to
breathing issues.
When I was putting our evacuation-ready suitcases away
yesterday…travel buddies that hadn’t left their closet since February because,
oh that’s right! There’s also a
pandemic!…I noticed that the guest room that they live in had better air. The benefit of only one window, closed air
vents, and a cat-detracting door that is always kept shut. I might end up living in the guest room for the
week until our AQI numbers come down to at least the flat-lipped “Unhealthy for
Sensitive Groups” level. Beats my other
thought of holing up in our small walk-in closet, which currently has the very
best air in all of Woodhaven.
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| Soooo weary of living at the "Hazardous" poisoned eyes and a tongue hanging out level. I am clinging to the promise of the wide-smiled green "Good" level that I regretfully took for granted for 16 years. (Sadly not pictured in our 4 day forecast.) Not making that mistake again! |
I really need to do laundry.
And we should have vacuumed as part of our Storm Prep. Neither of these chores is a good
idea at the moment, for fear they will bring in air from the outside if not the
garage. So Woodhaven is not just smoky;
it’s in desperate need of some basic care that just can’t happen right now.
The past week has been quite a test of sanity. I often encourage struggling friends not to
compare themselves to other people so as not to invalidate their own experience…but
it is still hard not to feel some guilt and overwhelming confusion about still
having our home and our town when so many in the Pacific Northwest no longer
do.
I am trying hard to remain optimistic, staring at a photo
taken from our back door a couple of years ago reminding me of what will be
again. As a friend in even more smoke-choked
Eugene commented, “You could almost drink that air.”
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| Breathe in. Hold. Slowly exhale. Repeat. |
The inability to simply step outside and take a deep breath
of clean air is emotionally suffocating.
There is a feeling of being trapped.
And the weather forecast has the key to set us free. It keeps changing, the forecast. And not in a good way. Much like most of 2020, I waver between
wanting to be informed and wanting to be in denial. Lalalalalalala.
I have dreamed of getting on an airplane, both to escape
somewhere unsmoked as well as to simply breath the freshly filtered cabin air. I have plans…that if we happen to clear out earlier
due to our 750ft elevation…to encourage local friends to bring a lawn chair and
simply sit on our lawn and breathe. It
calms me to imagine sitting in a chair on Woodhaven’s green grass, friends in
their chairs scattered around at large distances, all of us just quietly, blissfully,
gratefully breathing.
I know the day will come.
That day when the smoke blows away and the sky is blue and the air is clean
and I am no longer afraid to breathe. Please,
God, let that day come soon.
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