Ringed by flames, family takes refuge in van

For more than two hours, the Tinker family sat in a minivan on their property above San Pasqual Valley with the motor running and the air conditioning blasting, wondering whether the end was near.

Outside, black smoke engulfed the van and glowing embers the size of golf balls pelted the vehicle.

“When you see how much rage there is in a fire, that is no place to be,” said Henry Tinker.

Although most San Diego County residents received ample notice from authorities to evacuate their homes, the Tinker family and others in their hilltop neighborhood south of Escondido received no such warnings and were caught by surprise when flames raced up the mountainside about 2 a.m. Monday.

By the time they tried to leave, their phones were dead, the power was out and all escape routes were blocked. Henry, 76; his wife, Charlene, 75; their daughter, Kathy, 54; and her boyfriend Paul Howell, 47, were confronted with a dreadful realization: They were on their own.

Hours earlier, they had been celebrating Charlene’s birthday. They knew the fire was burning below them, near the San Diego Zoo’s Wild Animal Park, but assumed they were not in immediate danger, mostly because the winds were blowing in the opposite direction. Television news reports gave evacuation orders for areas throughout the San Pasqual Valley, but never mentioned their Highland Valley neighborhood, they said.

“There wasn’t one phone call, there wasn’t one knock on the door, nothing,” Kathy Tinker said.

Nonetheless, as a precaution, they packed clothes, photographs and important documents in their cars.

After the party, Paul and Kathy went back to their house, which is on the same 10-acre parcel as Henry and Charlene’s home. About 1 a.m., Paul stood on a deck overlooking the valley with his camcorder to record the blaze. As he taped, the winds suddenly shifted, pushing the fire their direction.

Kathy alerted her parents. But by the time they were ready to go, the rapidly moving fire had surrounded them.

With nowhere to go, they tried to make a stand, grabbing garden hoses to douse hot spots, which had ignited throughout the large lot. Soon, the heat and flames were overwhelming. Pine trees crackled with fire. The lawn burst into flames.

“It was scary as hell,” said Henry, a retired manufacturing executive. “It was a lava flow of embers.”

Then the family recalled something a fire marshal told them while inspecting their property several years earlier: If they were ever threatened by fire, they should head for the large dirt patch between the two homes. Henry used the patch to fly model airplanes. It was flat and void of vegetation, perfect for the takeoffs and landings of his remote-control aircraft. Now, it was going to be their refuge.

They made for the patch in two vehicles, but the smoke was so thick they feared they would collide. “It was a blizzard of ash,” Kathy said. “You couldn’t see where you were going.”

So they all piled into the family’s minivan and drove to the middle of the dirt. At first, before things got crazy, they made quick forays off the dirt patch, driving back and forth between the two homes, where Henry and Paul would take turns jumping out of the van and fighting the fire with the garden hoses. Embers rained down, singeing them.

When the flames grew too big to battle, Henry parked the van on the dirt and blasted the air conditioning. Winds rocked the van.

Kathy had serious doubts that waiting it out was the best strategy. Several times she suggested they make a break for it down the road, but she was overruled.

Kathy grabbed a T-shirt and covered her eyes. The others tried to calm her. Henry remained poised, reassuring the others they were not going to die.

Retelling the story Tuesday in the breakfast nook of his home, Henry sought to downplay the dangers, saying the van’s AC made them quite comfortable.

But Charlene interjected. “We weren’t comfortable. We just weren’t getting burned to death.”

For more than two hours they waited in the van for the fire to die down. Finally, they got out and surveyed the damage. The deck of Kathy and Paul’s home was damaged, a shed was demolished and trees and other vegetation were scorched. Flames had come within 10 feet of the homes.

At least four other homes between the Tinkers’ residences and their only escape route were destroyed.

On Tuesday, the Tinkers and Howell said they were happy to have survived. But they and other residents along the picturesque hilltop said they were frustrated that authorities didn’t give them evacuation warnings.

“We’re people who do as we’re told,” Charlene said. “I was waiting for the phone to ring.”

As the family cleaned up late Monday, they said a sheriff’s deputy showed up and apologized that they weren’t warned. On Tuesday, San Diego County Sheriff’s Lt. Phil Brust said that the reverse 911 system used to notify residents is “not 100% accurate” and that people are left out for a variety of reasons.

“I’m not going to make excuses for why they didn’t get the call,” he said. “We’re sorry they didn’t get the call, and we’re glad they’re OK.”

Howell, a painter, said he understood that authorities had other priorities.

“They’re going to protect the towns, they’re going to protect the Wild Animal Park,” he said. “We’re insignificant up here, if you really want to hear the truth.”

Henry agreed: “You really have to be prepared to take care of yourself.”

scott.glover@latimes.com

jack.leonard@latimes.com

matt.lait@latimes.com