Decker Canyon Bears Brunt of Fire’s Fury

Bob Roubian was singing a song Thursday, “Too Pooped to Pop,” as he surveyed the charred remains of what was once his 30-acre ranch.

“Whenever you ask a ham to sing, he’ll sing, whether there is a fire or a flood,” Roubian said.

For Roubian, 63, the owner of the Crab Cooker restaurant in Newport Beach, singing was just one way of dealing with his loss. Three buildings on his property, a 300-square-foot redwood cabin with six bunks and a kitchen, and a toolshed and an outhouse were among his losses when the Ortega fire, which began in Cleveland National Forest, intensified Wednesday afternoon and destroyed several homes in Decker Canyon, an isolated settlement in Riverside County about two miles west of El Cariso.

For Roubian, who lives in Newport Beach, the ranch was a place to escape on weekends with friends and family, who had built everything themselves over the past 20 years. It had been a place with plum, peach and apples trees, picnic benches and grapevines.

“It’s an escape,” he said. “It was so peaceful.”

But, he said, the pleasure they had known in building the ranch couldn’t be destroyed.

“There’s that old proverb, ‘The journey is better than the arrival,’ ” he said. “It was more fun building than using.”

About all that remained intact after the fire were a windmill and a metal barn that housed tractors.

Roubian, who estimated his loss at $60,000, said he didn’t have insurance because of its cost. Although “we did all that was required and then more” to try to make the ranch safe from fire, Roubian said he wasn’t shocked at the charred sight.

“We lived with the idea that it might happen--and then it happened,” he said. Firefighters “did all that they could do. What could you do when the blowtorch is on” and you can’t turn it off.

Firefighters believed that they had checked the fire’s spread toward Decker Canyon on Wednesday morning. But when the winds shifted in the afternoon, the fire jumped the lines meant to contain it. By the time firefighters reached the area, the black smoke and erratic winds made it impossible to enter the canyon, which is accessible only by a one-lane road.

“We had to wait until the smoke and the fire had come through,” said Boyd Newby, battalion chief for the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection. “This canyon is a funnel. It’s a chimney. We cannot bring manpower here and jeopardize life and equipment.”

Newby said that more structures might have survived had more residents obeyed requirements that they clear brush for 30 to 40 feet around structures.

“This area was a disaster waiting to happen.”

Roubian’s next-door neighbor, Tom Thomas, said that he also had known that fire was always a danger.

“If you live in this kind of country, you know that fires are a natural thing,” he said. “I don’t mean to be so cavalier, but that’s reality.”

Thomas, 40, the general manager of King Video Cable in Lake Elsinore, lost a 2,000-square-foot house and garage. On Wednesday, warned that fire was approaching the area, he returned from work to Decker Canyon to get his wife, Dee, and 10-day-old son, Matt, out safely. Once he arrived, he found that he could not get much else out.

“We had no idea (the fire) was going to double back,” he said. The family had just enough time to get the important things out--a few pictures, their dogs and themselves, he said.

When Thomas returned later, the cedar house with its rock roof was gone. Still-smoldering kitchen appliances, a bathtub and a grill were among the remains. Dee Thomas’ art studio, across a dirt road from the fire, was still standing, although the windows were blown out by the explosion of a neighbor’s propane tank.

Thomas, who is living with friends now, estimated the loss at $125,000 to $150,000, although he is insured. In the house, the Thomases lost antiques, electronics and most of their clothing.

The Palmer family, who also live in the canyon, almost lost their lives.

Mike and Linda Palmer and their son, Ben, were the only ones in the area who stayed as the fire went through. Luckily, Palmer, a retired Orange County firefighter, had an old fire engine, an inheritance he received from a friend’s estate. It helped them save their property and themselves.

Palmer, 43, said the family had decided to stay because they thought the immediate danger was over. When the fire took a sudden turn toward the canyon, they tried to leave via the only road. But the fire blocked the road and swept up the sides of the canyon, making the area inescapable.

“When the firestorm came, I was concerned that we were not going to live,” he said. The area was blackened with smoke, and the fire produced intense whirlwinds. Palmer and his wife sprayed his buildings and a neighbor’s with a fire hose.

As the fire got closer, they took their horse and pets and went to an open field on their 25-acre property and sprayed themselves down.

“It looked like the black of night,” he said. “I thought I saw a firestorm.”

Palmer said his wife spotted a firefighter helicopter, but it did not come to rescue them.

“The helicopter could see my wife and my son, but apparently they thought it was too dangerous,” he said, although he stressed he was not criticizing the firefighters. “I understand that you can’t send firefighters to risk their lives. I was not in their shoes. I had no idea what their plan was.”

But Palmer, a caretaker for several homes in the canyon, could not save Thomas’ and Roubian’s structures. When he saw Roubian Thursday, he hugged the restaurateur and said, “I tried.”

“We don’t have any of the magnitude of what they lost,” Palmer said. “Somehow, we’ll manage to help each other out.”

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