Inferno

A Saturday in August would normally be a perfect day for riding a motorcycle in the mountains east of Los Angeles. The summer temps heightening traction if you felt like rolling it on. The cooler heights promising some relief when you got there.

But the temps on Angeles Crest Highway, Big Tujunga Road, and the Angeles Forest Highway were out of control today, all three blocked by raging fires and so much like one of the circles of Hell that Dante himself would be convinced.

Moving along the freeway section of Highway 2, aiming towards La Canada and the mountains, all I could see were towering, billowing clouds of smoke and ash, resembling a volcanic eruption, Mt. St. Helen's style.

Since all of my usual paths were closed, I charted a course out Little Tujunga Road, and on through the northern canyons to the Rock Inn at Lake Hughes. As I made my way along technical and involving Little Tujunga, the fires looked far away. But the smoke grew close at times farther along the ride, getting so thick with angry reds and blacks mixed in the gray that I appeared to be riding toward some outer wall of hell. Each time I got close enough to consider turning around the road would bend and send me off towards clearer skies.

The time at the Rock Inn was as pleasant as ever, only with fewer bikes and riders than a normal Saturday would show. The return ride was fine too - that is, until I returned to Little Tujunga.

In the short time since I'd passed that way, the fires had moved closer and the authorities had closed the road. A friendly CHP cruiser was parked across my chosen path, forcing a detour over to Highway 14. Looking hard in the distance I couldn't see any fires or smoke, but the officer was insistent.

The humdrum freeway detour towards home was filled with sights of burning hillsides and flames visible in broad daylight that must have been 50 feet high. Fire-lines crept visibly closer towards homes and the wind was picking up.

An Inferno. One that wasn't through - that perhaps had only begun.