Mourning

One of my favorite places in Southern California is burning. I don't know if my favorite trail will be saved. It is the Cold Spring Trail in Santa Barbara. It is up above Montecito, a winding trail through the woods, by swimming holes, water holes, and, in the spring, natural water slides (moss on rock--it rips your panties, but its really fun).
For years, Jonathan and I have gone there for our career day. It is where we go to breathe clean air, clear our heads, smell the dirt and refresh our souls. I have soaked there, picnicked there, and been in hot springs there. Before Jonathan I used to go with Chrs and Michele. It was part of our perfect day in Santa Barbara--when we couldn't stand Ventura for another minute.
We were there yesterday. We did our best hike ever. Higher than we had ever been, past the fire road. We sat on a rock and looked out over the Channel Islands. Then we hiked down and sat with our feet in an icy creek. We finished our hike at 2. Apparently the fire started at 6. I keep scanning the maps, praying that it is only homes that have been destroyed, not my favorite trail, my refuge, my escape, our secret place. I won't know until it is over--but it is called the Cold Springs Fire and it is right smack in the middle of the evacuation area. My heart is sad. In the last two years we lost the reservoir to a mud slide (still closed), Julia Pfeiffer to fire (Big Sur), Griffith Park to fire, and now Cold Springs. It is hard to live here. My favorite places are being burned away. Where will I go?