Too close for comfort

The danger of wildfires became all too real for one X-Teamer, who sends this report from North Port.

By JOSHUA A. BELLIS

© St. Petersburg Times, published May 7, 2001

NORTH PORT -- The fires are out, but the memory still sears.

The aroma of burning trees and singed brush filled the air. At times the smoke was so thick that my eyes watered and my asthma flared up, the smell traveling as far away as St. Petersburg, a full 80 miles north of here. Gray flecks of ash fell like dirty snow on rooftops and lawns, and the sound of sirens woke residents as they tried to grab a few minutes of uneasy sleep, wondering if their neighborhood would be safe for one more day. Like the Bible story of the Israelites wandering through the wilderness, following a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, North Port residents watched the fires progress: billows of smoke in daylight, orange glow in the night sky.

What started as a routine controlled burn a few weeks ago soon became a raging inferno when the fire got out of hand, burning more than 5,000 acres in North Port and the surrounding area. "Brush fires are common here in North Port this time of year," said Christopher Coy, a 15-year-old freshman at Venice High School. The Coys' home was threatened by fires that reached within a few feet of their house.

But it wasn't just the wildfire that threatened homes. As many as 20 other blazes were suspected to be the work of arsonists.

"It was like a war zone around here," said Belinda Coy, Christopher's mother. "The scene was like something out of an action movie."

The situation was so intense it was overwhelming. The sound of National Guard and other firefighting helicopters dumping water, the sirens and lights of the police vehicles and fire trucks from throughout southwest Florida coming and going, the black pillars of smoke and red flares -- it was hard to take it all in.

"I went from room to room trying to think of the most important things to take," said Coy. "I grabbed the irreplaceable items, important papers, pictures, awards, etc.," she said. Like her neighbors, she packed everything that would fit into the family car in the driveway, fueled and waiting for a hurried departure. Then, they waited.

Atwater, the street where the Coys live, was partly evacuated. Many residents piled into their bulging cars and made their ways to the homes of friends or family or to one of the shelters, and tried to prepare themselves for the very real possibility of losing their homes.

Chris Coy and three of his friends put a fire out across the street from his house. From the time his mother picked him up from school early until late into the night, he was dousing the roof of his house with water and helping to prevent neighbors' houses from going up in flames. Even though firefighters and others worked vigorously to save all of the houses, two were burned to the ground, and several suffered damage.

Ray and Maria Delfa and their two children lost their home and all their belongings. Earl Diemer's home also was a total loss. Diemer had made his last mortgage payment the month before on the house, which contained more than $5,000 worth of new furniture (some not even unpacked).

The two houses marked the first lost to fire in the North Port Department's 41 years of battling blazes.

For the past several years, drought conditions have made fires a threat in Florida, and though these particular fires have been put out, the fear here is more real than ever.

Homeowners continue to salvage what they can from the ashes of what used to be their homes. Other homeowners, my family included, count their blessings at having been spared. Banners strung between trees and handwritten signs dot lawns, with this message:

"Thank You, Firefighters."

Joshua Bellis, 15, is in the ninth grade at Venice High School.

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